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THOSE  ORPHANS 


OR    THE 


TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER 


' 

CLEVELAND,  OHIO 

WILLIAM    W.    WILLIAMS 

1883 


PREFACE. 


Our  book  is  a  history  of  the  married  life  of  a  stepmother.  It 
contains  facts  which  we  have  gleaned  from  our  Diary,  put  into 
shape,  and  through  the  request  of  many  friends,  present  to  the 
public.  Trusting,  however,  if  any  of  our  lady  readers  are  con- 
templating matrimony  with  a  widower  who  has  from  six  to 
twelve  or  more  children,  she  will  not  be  discouraged  after  read- 
ing the  life  of  our  heroine.  For  should  the  novelty  of  a  young 
wife  die  out  with  the  gray  haired  old  man,  like  a  little  boy's 
whistle ;  should  frowns  instead  of  sweet  angelic  smiles  that  won 
her  come  to  his  fair  countenance,  and  he  grow  sullen  and 
morose  after  a  few  years  of  wedded  life,  the  best  she  can  do  will 
be  to  work  more  zealously  in  her  missionary  field  with  those 
large  boys  and  girls  under  her  care,  and  she  will  surely  reap 
her  reward  when  they  have  grown  to  manhood  and  woman- 
hood, ornaments  to  society ;  when  she  hears  them  call  her 
mother  affectionately,  and  knows  they  feel  a  reverence  as  divine 
as  though  she  were  their  own. 

Many  of  our  readers  may  be  stepmothers  ;  the  sunlight  of  a 
happy  home  illuminating  their  lives.  If  so  thank  God,  and 


4  PREFACE. 

pray  to  Him  that  the  olive  branch  of  peace  may  continue  green 
in  all  your  hearts. 

To  those  who  have  a  seemingly  hopeless  task — the  care  of  an 
ungrateful  father's  unruly  children — we  would  say  faint  not  by 
the  way  ;  but  imitate  the  example  of  our  heroine,  who  though 
dead  yet  speaketh  through  "Those  Orphans,"  so  tenderly  cared 
for,  so  early  trained  in  the  paths  of  virtue  and  Christianity. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


VI 

VII 

VIII 

IX 


XI 

XII 


XVI 

XVII 

XVIII 

XIX 

XX 


CONTENTS. 


PACK. 

CHAPTER. 

I       . 

,!!.- 


x 

46 


93 
99 
107 


XXI     ....... 

XXII          ..... 

XXIII     ..... 


vvv  •  ^ 

'  no 

XXVI          ......  Jy 

XXVII  . 

XXVIII  .... 
XXIX    ..... 

xxx       .....  •       ••     I6s 

XXXI    .....  • 

XXXII 
XXXIII    ...*-••  .  .  194 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER. 


xxxv  .'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.•.•% 

xxxvi 

XXXVII 

XXXVIII 


XLI    . 
XLII          . 
XLIII    .  . 

XLIV          .  . 

XLV    .  '  268 

XLVI       -         .'.'.'.'.'.-.-.•         HI 

XLVII    .... 
XLVIII          .  .     '       . 

XLIX    . 


LI 
LII 
LIII 
LIV 
LV 
LVI 


302 
305 
307 
312 
3J7 
323 
333 


THOSE   ORPHANS 


The  Young  Stepmother. 


THOSE    ORPHANS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Elice  Woodville  is  seventeen  years  of  age.  We  will  now 
introduce  our  readers  to  her  home — Woodville  Grove,  a  name 
given  by  herself  to  a  cheery  little  place  on  the  banks  of  the 
beautiful  Cohocton  River,  in  the  town  of  Lepser,  New  York ; 
the  price  of  which  her  father  had  managed  to  save  from  the 
wreck  of  a  princely  fortune,  where  in  his  old  age  he  had  settled 
with'  the  intention  of  spending  the  remainder  of  a  life  made 
useful  by  a  strict  adherence  to  business,  as  well  as  many  praise- 
worthy and  heroic  deeds. 

There  are  but  three  members  of  the  family  at  home,  Elice, 
her  father  and  mother — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Woodville.  It  is  the 
early  dawn  of  a  cold  December  day ;  Elice  is  in  a  room  assigned 
to  her  by  her  parents  on  their  removal  from  one  of  the  eastern 
States,  where  she  had  spent  the  most  of  her  life  at  school,  her 
education  superintended  by  the  best  of  masters ;  where  she  had 
been  faithfully  trained,  morally,  physically,  and  spiritually,  as 
well  as  intellectually;  and  although  she  had  left  a  home  of  far 
greater  grandeur,  she  did  not  feel  to  murmur;  but  a  sweet 
contentment  stole  through  her  heart  when  she  looked  upon  the 
faces  of  her  loved  ones,  and  thought  how  good  God  was  that 
He  had  given  them  to  come  with  her  to  this  quiet  spot. 

A  bright  fire  glows  upon  the  hearth  ;  and  though  the  winds 

*  '  9 


IO  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

are  whistling  wildly  without,  and  piling  up  the  snow  against 
the  bay-window,  her  flowers  blossom  on  the  same ;  and  her 
bird,  whose  gilded  cage  is  hanging  in  the  midst,  sings  just  as 
sweetly.  She  is  seated  upon  a  low  arm-chair  listening  to  the 
little  warbler,  whose  notes  seem  to  be  more  exquisitely  mellow 
than  ever,  upon  this  morning. 

A  few  oil  paintings  are  scattered  about ;  hitherto  she  had 
taken  much  pleasure  in  working  her  improvement  in  this  art. 
Her  books  she  did  not  care  to  peruse  at  this  time,  for  all  such 
delights  were  swallowed  up  in  the  great  happiness  that  perme- 
ated her  whole  being — the  consciousness  of  loving  and  being 
loved ;  that  the  following  day  the  fruition  of  her  fondest  hopes 
would  be  realized — she  would  become  the  wife  of  the  wealthy, 
talented,  and  kind-hearted  Walter  Clayton,  and  oh!  so  affection- 
ate and  devoted. 

True,  she  knew  little  of  his  former  life ;  but  his  address  was 
so  pleasant,  and  his  voice  modulated  to  such  a  degree  of  sweet- 
ness, that  she  verily  believed  him  the  impersonation  of  all  that 
is  great  and  noble  in  this  world. 

•He  was  a  widower;  talked  long  of  his  angel  wife  that  lay 
beneath  the  cold  sod;  told  how  he  had  loved  her;  what 
she  had  said  in  her  last  moments,  — "  Prepare  to  meet  me  in 
Heaven  above;"  and  he  was  striving  to  be  a  good  Christian, 
that  he  too  might  go  to  that  happy  place ;  of  his  cherub  chil- 
dren, Charlie  and  Blanche,  the  tender  buds,  who  so  much 
needed  a  mother's  care ;  all  together  they  had  been  one  of  the 
happiest  families  in  existence. 

Then  wonder  not  that  Elice,  who  was  but  a  young  girl  unini- 
tiated in  the  wiles  and  intrigues  of  the  world,  should  believe  this 
man,  who  had  so  insinuating  a  smile,  could  shape  his  words  into 
such  honied  phrases,  that  she  poured  out  the  wealth  of  her 
love  upon  him  who  had  scattered  roses  all  along  through  the 
life  of  a  former  wife,  and  could  not  fail  to  fill  hers  with  peace 
and  sunshine,  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  her  soul  with  an  entire 
devotion  to  her  .happiness. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  1 1 

"Thinking,  darling,"  said  her  mother,  entering  her  room, 
"and  of  what?" 

The  face  of  Elice,  already  radiant  with  hope  and  joy,  kindled 
anew  at  the  words  of  Mrs.  Woodville. 

"Yes,  mother,  how  good  and  true  he  will  be,  how  much  I 
love  him,  and  that  you  will  be  so  happy  because  I  am." 

"Oh,  yes,  Elice,  I  honor  your  choice;  and  although  you 
will  not  be  free  from  care,  in  him  you  will  find  no  dictatorial 
master ;  howbeit  should  the  future  prove  that  there  are  two 
sides  to  our  picture,  we  have  nothing  now  to  do  but  look  back 
upon  the  bright  one." 

"  Darling  mamma,  there  can  be  but  one  side — and  that  so 
bright,  with  such  a  man  as  Walter  Clayton." 

"I  hope  not — I  hope  not,"  replied  Mrs.  Woodville,  and 
stooping  kissed  her,  but  in  spite  of  herself  the  tears  fell  like 
rain  upon  the  pale  face  of  her  daughter. 

"  If  I  only  knew, "  she  thought,  as  she  passed  out  of  the 
room.  "Oh,  my  little  one — my  pet — she  has  thus  far  been 
shielded  from  all  the  storms  of  life ;  and  of  the  rough  gales  that 
so  often  blow  up  suddenly  to  overturn  our  pleasure  boats,  in 
which  we  feel  securely  gliding,  she  knows  comparatively  nothing. 
But  I  can  -only  pray  that  none  of  those  things  come  upon  my 
Elice — my  beautiful  child." 

The  eyes  of  Elice  wandered  out  over  the  huge  drifts  of  snow, 
through  the  tall,  leafless  maples  and  horse-chestnuts,  whose 
branches  were  swaying  to  and  fro  in  the  cold  December  winds, 
to  the  river — the  Cohocton — whose  murmurings  were  now 
hushed  beneath  a  thick  crust  of  ice,  and  in  a  delicious,  half- 
wakeful  dreaminess  in  which  the  past  and  future  blended,  she 
was  roaming  in  the  springtime  with  the  old  friends  and  new, 
gathering  the  lily  of  the  valley,  the  trailing  arbutus,  and  lovely 
violets  that  bloomed  in  solid  masses  all  along  its  borders ;  or 
sitting  upon  some  drooping  willow  bough  angling  for  trout; 
again,  discussing  a  favorite  author,  or  with  pencil  in  hand 
sketching  the  scenery  that  made  the  place  so  attractive.  And 


I  2  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

as  she  thought  how  soon  she  was  to  be  removed  from  these, 
her  reverie  was  overshadowed ;  and  she  made  a  wish  that  she 
might  not  be  obliged  to  leave  the  pleasant  home  that  she  loved 
so  well,  and  her  dear  parents  in  their  old  age;  that  Walter 
would  find  business  in  the  large  town  close  at  hand ;  and  she 
believed  he  would,  for  he  loved  her  so  dearly  that  he  would  do 
anything  consistent  with  reason  to  please  her ;  but  she  would 
not  be  unreasonable,  and  would  sacrifice  everything  for  his  sake ; 
she  would  do  for  him  just  what  she  knew  he  would  do  for  her. 
Then  she  took  from  her  private  drawer  his  letters  that  had 
been  written  from  time  to  time,  and  read  many  of  them  over. 
How  deep  and  passionate  and  fond  were  his  words.  In  them 
she  beheld  herself  mirrored  an  angel  of  light ;  and  when  she 
perused  passages  like  these:  "My  thoughts  are  alone  of  you, 
darling ; "  "  How  happy  we  will  be  when  we  are  wed,  my  an- 
gel;" "This  earth  would  be  very  drear  without  you,  love;" 
she  believed  every  word  expressed,  and  felt  that  she  could  lay 
down  her  life  far  sooner  than  lose  the  smiles  that  emanated 
from  his  true,  honest  eyes,  the  love  of  the  great  noble  heart 
she  had  won,  the  good  opinion  of  him  who  had  singled  her  out 
from  all  the  world  to  bless  his  home,  to  cheer  his  life  and  those 
of  his  little  ones. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  13 


CHAPTER  II. 

Lavarre,  the  birth-place  of  Walter  Clayton,  like  all  towns, 
had  its  good  with  its  bad  inhabitants. 

It  was  here  that  he  commenced  business  a  poor  boy,  work- 
ing his  way  up,  until  he  had  become  a  man,  by  which  time  he 
had  amassed  a  fortune.  Here  he  had  lived  a  few  years  a  married 
life,  been  blessed  by  the  birth  of  two  beautiful  children, 
Blanche  and  Charlie,  and  laid  away  a  lovely  companion  in  the 
little  cemetery  called  Wild  Rose  Glen. 

Far  and  near  he  was  known  as  the  "  rich  widower ;"  and 
many  an  ambitious  mother  tried  hard  to  secure  him  for  a  son- 
in-law,  so  intent  are  some  upon  having  their  daughters  marry 
wealthy,  although  this  may  be  the  only,  recommendation  a 
man  has.  Poverty  is  a  crime  with  them,  and  sooner  would 
they  subject  their  children  to  a  life  of  sorrow,  than  have  them 
lose  the  golden  opportunity  of  being  rich  and  grand. 

Among  those  who  figured  conspicuously  at  Lavarre  was  the 
Tattum  family,  which  consisted  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tattum  with 
their  daughters — Minnie,  Augusta,  and  Vina. 

Mrs.  Tattum  was  termed  the  "Town  Gossip,"  as  she  usually 
became  acquainted  with  the  business  of  her  neighbors;  and  pos- 
sessing a  very  fertile  imagination,  a  little  truth  grew  into  great 
stories.  Was  there  a  funeral,  she  knew  the  moment  the  de- 
ceased died,  how  much  he  was  worth,  all  about  ;his  will,  and 
made  herself  peculiarly  odious  oftentimes  by  her  officiousness 
on  such  occasions,  thrusting  her  presence  upon  the  survivors, 


14  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

asking  a  multitude  of  questions  which  she  had  no  right  to 
know,  then  coloring  and  shaping  into  falsehood  such  as  suited 
her  own  particular  fancy  at  the  time ;  and  yet  in  spite  of  her 
ignorance  and  boldness,  of  her  habits  being  so  thoroughly 
known,  she  had  a  degree  of  influence  and  held  many  in  awe  in 
the  immediate  vicinity  of  her  home ;  for  her  intrigues,  plot- 
tings,  mischievous  tongue,  were  objects  of  fear.  Deceitful  to 
her  friends  and  revengeful  to  her  enemies,  she  helped  largely 
to  turn  the  little  town  of  Lavarre  upside  down,  although  if  a 
person  were  asked  what  he  or  she  thought  of  Mrs.  Tattum, 
they  would  answer,  "She  is  an  old  mischief-maker  to  whom  no 
one  pays  the  slightest  attention." 

Mr.  Tattum  never  thought  of  engaging  in  the  slightest  busi- 
ness until  first  consulting  her,  and  then  usually  did  as  he  was 
bidden;  for  if  he  failed,  to  use  his  own  words,  "I  know'd  Mary 
Ann,  and  know'd  the  red  hot  sparks  I'd  strike  lively  off  that 
hot  temper  o'  hern." 

He  was  under  the  influence  of  intoxicating  liquors  the  most 
of  the  time.  "Just  enough,"  as  he  said,  "to  drive  off  the 
blues,  and  help  me  tolerate  life  with  that  woman  of  mine." 

Frequently,  however,  he  imbibed  so  much  as  to  be  quite 
boisterous  on  the  streets,  which  subjected  his  wife  and  daughters 
to  much  shame.  The  daughters  had  received  an  education, 
limited,  however,  by  their  lack  of  means.  Two  of  them, 
Minnie  and  Augusta,  were  very  vain  of  the  knowledge  they 
possessed,  and  also  of  the  wit  and  beauty  some  had  accorded 
them.  Further,  like  their  mother,  they  were  bold  and  impu- 
dent, and  given  to  prevarication. 

Vina,  the  other  daughter,  was  different;  her  loveliness  of 
character  shining  out  more  conspicuously  in  contrast  with  the 
mean,  driveling  disposition  of  the  other  female  members  of 
the  family;  a  Christian,  and  a  lady  in  all  the  relations  of  life; 
they  insincere,  unjust,  always  stooping  to  conquer. 

All  belonged  to  a  popular  church.  Each  child  in  its  infancy, 
having  been  dressed  in  costly  robes,  was  carried  to  the  altar  by 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  I  5 

its  hypocritical  mother,  and  there  christened,  and  at  a  suitable 
age  persuaded  by  her  to  join  the  church  of  which  she  was  a 
member;  and  to  them  her  unanswerable  reason  was,  "It  is  a 
grand  stepping  stone  to  fashionable  society,  and  will  pave  the. 
way  to  the  most  aristocratic  circles." 

The  father  seldom  had  any  voice  in  the  matter — never,  unless 
under  the  influence  of  an  extra  amount  of  stimulant,  and  didn't 
mind,  as  he  called  it,  "a  little  row,"  as  it  was  "sort  o'  spicy," 
when  he  would  say,  "Nonsense,  Mary  Ann,  now  what's  the 
use  of  that  child  jining  the  church?  'twon't  make  her  no  better; 
'taint  got  no  more  religion  nor  I  have,  and  don't  know  no 
more  about  creeds ;  nor  that  muss  they're  into  up  to  their  eyes 
about  the  Trinity  and  Unity,  nor  I  don't  believe  any  on  'em 
knows  a  bit  more  nor  that  old  brindle  cow  o'  ourn.  Poor 
little  young  ones !  what's  the  use  starching  'em  up  and  taking 
'em  to  the  meetin'  house  where  they've  got  to  set  up  like  so 
many  mummies;  can't  sneeze,  nor  wink,  but  ha'  got  to  pretend 
paying  desprit  'tention.  Goodness  gracious,  but  don't  I,  Hez- 
ekier  Tattum,  git  desprit  when  I  hev  to  go  without  victuals  fur 
half  a  month  to  save  money  to  flam  'em  out  with  furbelows !  and 
that's  just  what  they're  thinking  on  instead  of  the  sermon. 
Nonsense,  Mary  Ann,  I  won't  'low  it  to  hev  'em  go  there  and 
answer  '  yes '  to  all  them  are  ringamajigeries  about  church  doc- 
trines what  they  don't  know  nothing  about,  nor  can't  know 
nothing  about,  nor  nobody.  I  won't  hev  it,  I  tell  ye,  I  won't." 

Whereupon  Mrs.  Tattum  raising  her  voice  would  reply,  "I 
can't  see,  Hezekiah,  what  business  it  is  of  yours.  I  just  wish 
you  wouldn't  interfere  with  my  authority,  and  I  won't  put  up 
with  it." 

By  which  time  Mr.  Tattum,  willing  to  do  anything  to  insure 
peace,  and  feeling  that  his  wife  was  getting  the  better  of  him 
in  the  fray,  and  thinking  how  many  days  would  elapse  before 
he  would  be  free  from  her  tongue  lashings  unless  he  "  caved," 
as  was  his  word,  he  would  say, 

"  Well,  well,  hev  it  all  your  own  way,  Mary  Ann  ;  mebby  'tis 


1 6  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

best  arter  all — a  sort  'o  comfort  to  hev  a  lot  uv  leetle  pious 
souls  around  ;  let  'em  go  to  meeting  all  they  wan't  to  ;  't  has 
made  a  saint  o'  you,  mebby  't  will  o'  them  ;  but  with  my  con- 
science wide  awake,  I  couldn't  recommend  any  o'  you  fur  your 
goodness.  Well,  take  it  all  in  all,  if  you  go  to  heaven,  I've  no 
fear — that's  all  there  is  about  that." 

The  Tattums — mother  and  daughters — were  very  much  dis- 
tressed on  account  of  the  illiterate  husband  and  father.  He 
was  a  plain,  outspoken  man.  In  spite  of  his  lack  of  culture, 
he  possessed  a  liberal  amount  of  good  sense ;  disliked  hypoc- 
risy, and  did  not  believe  in  stealing  the  covering  of  any  church 
as  a  cloak  for  sin  ;  and  offended  his  wife  by  a  frequent  allusion 
to  the  subject,  threatening  to  inform  the  pastor  if  she  did  not 
behave  better — did  not  stop  playing  off  so  many  tricks  on  her 
friends  and  neighbors,  and  being  so  "  uppish  "  and  "waspish" 
to  him.  "Taint  what  a  Christian  orto  do, '"he  said,  "they 
orto  set  a  good  example  afore  the  world  ;  but  for  my  part  I 
don't  see  much  difference  between  saint  and  sinner.  If  I  want 
to  trade  hosses  with  a  saint,  if  'tis  heavey  at  all,  they  keep  't  on 
straw  awhile  so  'twill  appear  all  right  and  cheat  me,  if  possible. 
If  a  sinner  has  a  lame  one  he  palms  it  off  the  same  way,  and 
'twould  take  a  smarter  man  nor  I  am  to  distinguish  one  from 
t'other.  Then,  there's  Mary  Ann,  goes  to  all  the  meetins  there 
is,  brings  up  the  gals  to  go,  has  'em  jine  the  church  afore  their 
baby  close  are  off,  makes  folks  b'lieve  she's  jest  the  thing — and  a 
good  many  do  think  so,  I  suppose,  and  a  good  many  don't 
agin — when,  to  my  certain  knowledge,  she  does  wus  things 
than  I'd  ever  think  o'  doing — backbites  her  neighbors,  toles 
their  chickens  into  the  back  yard,  ketches  'em  on  the  sly,  and 
thinks  she's  doing  a  Christian  act,  cos  she  makes  the  preacher  a 
present  o'  'em.  Then  that  big  turkey  she  killed  didn't  belong 
t'  her — only  jest  strayed  onto  our  side  the  fence,  then  to  keep 
all  right  and  pop'lar,  gin  that  fur  a  New  Year's  gift.  Ha  !  ha  ! 
wasn't  Parson  Gray  profuse  o'  his  thanks — telling  folks  what  a 
good  and  liberal  soul  sister  Tattum  was  ;  that  if  all  the  sistern 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  1 7 

tried  to  help  sustain  the  gospel  like  what  she  did,  he'd  hev  no 
trouble  gitting  his  salary.  Didn't  I  wan't  ter  say,  Guess  they 
wouldn't  if  they  paid  it  out  o'  other  people's  hen  roosts ;  stole 
the  last  nickel  out  of  their  husband's  pockets,  after  they  was 
abed  and  asleep,  so  they  hadn't  as  much  left  as  ter  buy  a  little 
tobaccer." 


1 8  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 


CHAPTER  III. 

"She  has  always  been  a  good  child  to  us,"  said  Mr.  Wood- 
ville,  addressing  his  wife,  ' '  and  I  shall  be  very  lonely  when 
she  is  gone.  To-morrow  she  will  be  hundreds  of  miles  anvay. 
We  will  miss  her  so  much,  won't  we,  mother?"  and  here  the 
old  man  bent  his  head  upon  his  cane  while  he  looked  as  if 
twenty  years  had  been  added  to  his  life. 

' '  Yes,  she  has  always  been  the  sunlight  of  our  home ;  no 
one  can  tell  my  grief  as  the  hour  approaches  that  takes  my 
darling  from  me." 

"  It  has  been  a  wild,  bitter  night ;  the  winds  have  whistled 
and  moaned  without  any  interruption,  which  seems  almost  a 
prophecy — a  warning  of  the-future. " 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Well,  nothing,  mother,  nothing,"  he  answered  as  he  looked 
upon  her  eyes  red  and  swollen  from  weeping. 

"  I  must  know  all  you  think !  " 

"If  you  must — why,  it  is  just  an  old  man's  whim  that  takes 
its  coloring  from  the  anticipated  hours  of  loneliness ;  our  home 
will  be  very  desolate  when  she  is  away,  you  know." 

' '  But  if  it  it  be  her  future  that  thus  forecasts  its  shadow,  ah 
me!  ah  me!" 

They  then  looked  out  upon  the  sky,  black  as  night,  the 
blinding  storm  and  the  great  banks  of  snow  piling  up  against 
the  house  and  covering  the  fences  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach ; 
and,  added  to  this,  a  beautiful  young  evergreen  that  had  pro- 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  1 9 

tected  the  window  of  Elice  from  the  scorching  rays  of  the  mid- 
summer sun,  had  been  uprooted  and  thrown  directly  across  the 
path  that  led  from  the  house  to  the  gate. 

"Fearful  sight !"  escaped  them  simultaneously,  while  their 
lips  were  tremulous  with  suppressed  emotion.  Then  both  were 
as  silent  as  though  the  angel  of  destruction  had  spread  its 
broad  wings  over  their  dwelling,  or  the  finger  of  death  had  been 
pointed  toward  the  idol  of  their  household. 

After  a  time,  when  Mr.  Woodville  could  command  himself 
enough  to  speak,  he  said,  "  Is  it  a  voice  from  on  high?  Now 
I  do  not  really  like  Mr.  Clayton.  I  fear  he  is  not  all  he  pro- 
fesses— he  talks  fair,  and  smiles  sweetly ;  but  an  unguarded 
word  here  and  there  discloses  a  nature  too  grasping  to  be  alto- 
gether honest,  apparently  so,  at  least.  Now  I  did  not  like  the 
way  he  managed  with  those  parties  where  he  took  advantage  of 
a  technicality  of  law  to  rob  them — that  is  what  I  call  it ;  with 
him  it  was  a  clever  business  transaction  whereby  he  cleared  a 
'  cool  thousand.'  ' 

To  the  reply  of  Mrs.  Woodville,  shaped  to  favor  her  daugh- 
ter's betrothed,  in  which  the  tones  of  her  voice  were  freighted 
with  the  same  distrust  that  weighed  so  heavily  upon  her  hus- 
band, thereby  contradicting  words  intended  to  soothe  the 
"dear  heart,"  he  answered,  "I  know  it  is  the  way  of  the 
world,  but  the  world's  way  I  do  not  like — to  lie  and  cheat,  the 
more  the  better,  let  it  be  inside  the  law,  which,  haply,  cannot 
always  bear  the  strain.  But  if  I  really  believed  all  this  of  Wal- 
ter, though  her  heart  were  broken,  I  would  not  allow  Elice  to 
marry  him.  Yet,  he  may  be  all  that  a  trusting,  loving  hus- 
band can  be ;  but  I  do  wish  I  had  not  heard  him  talk  so  much 
about  money  and  his  lucky  speculations." 

Elice,  who  was  passing  through  the  hall  to  her  own  apart- 
ment, hearing  a  portion  of  the  conversation,  became  pale  as 
the  lily  bells  that  trembled  in  her  fingers. 

"Poor  dears!  "  was  her  mental  exclamation,  "can  it  be  that 
the  thought  of  losing  their  Elice  is  so  appalling  that  its  shadow 


2O  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

falls  upon  Walter's  integrity?     I  will  go  and  comfort  them." 

Yet,  upon  entering  she  did  not  allude  to  the  subject,  but, 
exhibiting  her  flowers,  she  said,  "They  are  the  gift  of  our 
friend,  Mrs.  Lane.  Are  they  not  lovely?"  The  lilies  she 
handed  to  her  mother,  but  a  sprig  of  orange  buds,  two  of  which 
were  more  than  half  blown,  she  laid  against  the  glossy  braids 
of  her  luxuriant  hair.  "Is  that  becoming,  mamma?  Walter 
will  think  it  a  happy  omen;  her  orange  trees  have  never 
bloomed  before,  and  now  this,  just  for  our  nuptials."  And  she 
spoke  so  trustingly  and  looked  so  happy,  that  her  father  tried 
hard  to  put  away  all  unkind  thoughts,  and  to  feel  he  had 
passed  a  too  hasty  judgment  upon  her  lover. 

Mr.  Woodville  drew  her  upon  his  lap,  then  kissed  her  again 
and  again.  He  pressed  her  to  his  bosom  in  a  long  and  silent 
embrace,  when,  unable  to  restrain  his  tears,  the  pent  up  flood 
rolled  down  his  furrowed  cheeks.  Clasping  her  closer  and  yet 
closer,  he  exclaimed,  "My  daughter!  oh,  my  daughter !  and 
must  I  give  you  up  ?  Cursed  be  he  who  dares  harm  one  hair 
of  your  precious  head." 

Elice  patted  his  cheek  and  told  him  not  to  fear ;  that  while 
she  regretted  parting  with  her  friends,  she  knew  that  her  future 
home  would  be  all  that  a  loving  heart  could  make  it. 

Still  the  winds  whistled  and  shrieked ;  still  the  hurricane 
beat  wildly  against  the  windows,  while  ghostly  moans  fell  upon 
the  ears  as  the  great  trees,  swaying  to  and  fro,  struck  their  leaf- 
less branches  against  the  eaves. 

Then,  as  if  looking  outward — on — beyond  the  storm  to  that 
Power  who  alone  can  control  the  winds,  Mrs.  Woodville  said, 
"God  rules,  father;  soon,  very  soon  old  Boreas  will  be  driven 
back  into  his  cold  lair,  where  he  will  be  as  quiet  and  peaceful 
as  any  lamb." 

Elice  catching  her  manner  continued,  "Yes,  and  the  frost 
king  has  bound  our  buds  in  his  cold  shrouds ;  but  a  little  while, 
and  they  will  burst  their  icy  cerements  to  gladden  all  our  spring 
time;"  and,  pointing  to  the  lilies  full  blossomed,  still  in  the 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  21 

hands  of  her  mother, — "See,  he  cannot  hold  them;  no  more 
can  any  stormy  wind  or  tempest  bind  our  joys." 

To  which  her  father  added,  "You  are  right,  my  child;  though 
the  world  is  full  of  tribulation,  in  Christ  there  is  sweet  peace  ; 
moreover,  it  is  whimsical,  to  say  the  least,  that  we  burden  the 
present  with  fears  of  future  ill.  Strange,  is  it  not,  how  our 
thoughts  take  coloring  from  the  weather?" 

The  three  then  knelt  together,  Mr.  Woodville  placing  his 
hand  upon  his  daughter's  head,  while  he  prayed  so  fervently, 
as  if  his  words  were  burdened  with  a  great  agony — "'If  it  be 
possible,  let  this  cup  pass, ' — but  no !  Thou  wilt  keep  our  Elice 
in  the  hour  of  temptation ;  in  thy  secret  pavilion  keep  her  from 
the  '  strife  of  tongues ' ; "  and  his  prayer  seemed  almost  a 
prophecy. 

The  three  then  conversed  of  the  responsibilities  Elice  was 
about  to  assume;  her  relations  as  wife,  particularly  her  trying 
position  as  step-mother.  "But,"  said  Mr.  Woodville,  "should 
the  noisy  undercurrent  of  popular  prejudice  set  in  against  you, 
do  not  be  discouraged ;  love  for  your  husband  and  the  little 
motherless  ones  will  lift  you  above  the  petty  caviling  of  uncul- 
tured natures.  The  most  turbulent  streams  sometimes  wash 
down  the  purest  gold,  and  often  gems  of  priceless  value.  But 
it  is  only  through  prayer  and  much  rugged  persistence  that  you 
will  be  able  to  gather  them  up  and  wear  them  in  your  woman's 
crown  of  rejoicing.  And  now,  darling,  I  commit  you  to  the 
care  of  our  dear  Father  above,  of  whom  it  is  said,  '  A  sparrow 
falleth  not  to  the  ground  without  His  notice ; '  and  '  Ye  are  of 
more  value  than  many  sparrows. '  Come  here,  mother,  place 
your  hand  with  mine  upon  her  head.  Our  blessings  upon  you, 
child!  Go  forth;  battle  with  all  a  woman's  fortitude  in  the 
great  warfare  of  life,  but  in  the  fear  and  love  of  Almighty 
God." 


22  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 


CHAPTER   IV. 

Walter  Clayton  was  seated  in  the  old  stage-coach  bound  for 
Cambdcn,  where  he  intended  to  take  the  cars  for  Woodville  to 
claim  his  promised  bride. 

He  had  just  bidden  adieu  to  friends  on  the  porch  of  the  hotel, 
and  little  aside  was  talking  confidentially  to  another,  telling  his 
plans;  and,  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  the  town  gossip,  Mrs. 
Tattum,  was  standing  just  within  his  shadow,  was  enjoining 
the  strictest  secrecy. 

She  had  seen  him  the'  moment  he  stepped  into  the  sleigh, 
wrapped  in  his  huge  'shawl,  with  satchel  in  hand.  Surely,  she 
thought,  there  must  be  something  going  on — a  journey  to  be 
taken,  which  meant — a  new  wife,  perhaps,  and  moreover,  she 
was  quite  sure  of  it ;  for,  hadn't  it  leaked  out  through  the  vil- 
lage postmaster  that  Walter  was  daily  receiving  letters  super- 
scribed in  a  lady's  hand?  the  woman's  he  meant  to  marry?  Of 
course  it  was,  or  they  wouldn't  be  coming  like  snow  flakes, 
thicker  and  faster ;  and  she  was  going  to  find  out  all  about  it. 

She  listened  for  a  time  disappointed,  when  she  thought,  "Well, 
this  will  never  do ;  I'm  only  having  trouble  for  my  pains:  I  will 
walk  slowly  by  where  I  may  hear  enough  to  give  me  the  drift 
of  their  conversation,  for  I'm  bound  to  know  all  about  this 
mystery.  When  people  try  to  keep  so  mighty  sly,  they  don't 
want  to  forget  that  Mary  Ann  Tattum  is  after  them,"  and  she 
gave  a  little  chuckle,  as  much  as  to  say,  ' '  I  shall  catch  you 
yet;  it's  no  little  pussy  that's  after  you  now,  old  rat." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  23 

She  heard  Walter  say,  laughingly,  ' '  I  am  suspected  of  mat- 
rimonial intentions  then,  Hal  ?  Well,  you  just  tell  them  I  am 
going  to  New  York  to  replenish  my  stock  of  goods.  Good-bye." 

"  All  right  ?  "  inquired  the  coach-driver  in  the  blandest  tones, 
after  having  waited  half  an  hour  beyond  his  usual  time.  He 
then  tucked  the  robes  more  closely  about  his  passenger,  hand- 
ling them  carefully  as  would  a  father  had  he  been  wrapping 
them  about  a  favored  daughter. 

They  were  soon  riding  rapidly  along,  unmindful  of  all  that 
was  passing.  Walter  was  thinking — was  it  of  Elice,  that  dear 
loving  soul  who  was  about  to  launch  the  barque  with  him 
upon  the  uncertain  seas  of  matrimonial  life ;  how  happy t  he 
would  strive  to  make  that  child,  who  so  implicitly  trusted  him, 
that  she  promised  to  become  his  wife ;  that  was  so  soon  to 
leave  her  father  and  mother  ;  to  separate  herself  from  all  other 
earthly  ties  for  him  ? 

No  !  While  he  wrapped  himself  in  his  cloak  of  selfishness, 
he  mused  thus  :  My  ceaseless  expenses  are  now  about  to  end; 
this  having  so  much  extra  help  is  what  eats  up  a  man's  profits 
— a  kitchen  girl,  a  nursery  maid,  sometimes  a  woman  to  sew, 
and  all  to  board,  all  to  pay.  But  with  a  man's  wife  it  is  differ- 
ent ;  she  can  take  the  place  of  all  three,  and  more.  A  married 
man  has  another  advantage  a  widower  has  not ;  if  he  feels 
crabbed  after  a  hard  day's  work  and  snaps  at  a  servant,  she 
will  say,  as  pert  as  can  be,  '  Look  for  another  girl,  please,'  per- 
haps throw  your  squalling  baby  into  your  arms,  and  tell  you 
to  take  care  of  your  own  brats;  dare  not  open  your  mouth 
even  to  advise  her,  so  must  smother  down  your  rage,  when 
you  feel  like  pitching  her  into  the  street.  Why,  servants  think 
they  can  run  right  over  and  trample  down  a  poor  man,  who  is 
so  unfortunate  as  to  lose  his  companion,  and  leave  him  alone 
with  little  children !  But  it  doesn't  mind  what  you  say  to  a 
wife ;  however  tart,  she  hardly  dares  resent  it ;  and  while  she 
accomplishes  more  work  than  the  whole  complement  of  girls, 
it's  all  right;  true,  their  tears  fall  like  rain  sometimes,  but  that's 


24  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

nothing;  like  flowers  washed  in  a  shower,  they  look  the 
brighter  for  it.  I  wonder  if  Elice  has  a  good  disposition.  If 
a  shrew,  I  can  tame  her.  I  don't  care  only  so  she's  tough 
and  hearty.  Oh,  dear,  I  presume  I  shall  be  obliged  to  keep 
one  servant  for  the  looks  of  it."  Then  Walter  Clayton  com- 
menced musing  upon  his  speculations,  and  to  count  his  gains, 
in  the  midst  of  which  he  reached  the  railway  station,  where  he 
was  to  procure  tickets  for  his  eastern  trip. 

When  evening  came  he  was  folding  his  betrothed  to  his 
bosom,  and  telling  her  of  the  beautiful  home  over  which  she 
was  so  soon  to  preside  as  mistress,  of  his  little  ones  who  were 
waiting  to  give  her  a  welcome,  and  kissing  away  the  tears  that 
fell  so  fast  at  thought  of  leaving  her  other  darlings  behind,  and 
assuring  her  of  his  ceaseless  endeavors  to  make  her  life  as 
pleasant  and  happy  as  the  old  one. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  25 


CHAPTER  V. 

"I  declare,  Hezekiah,  you  can't  guess  what  I've  heard!" 

"Don't  know,  Mary  Ann,  when  you  stays  so  long,  I  makes 
up  mind  you'z  smellin'  out  somethin'." 

"  Hang  up  that  frisky  old  tongue  of  yours,  and  I'll  tell  you. 
Walter  Clayton  is  surely  going  to  be  married — started  off  to-day 
for  his  wife.  Now,  my  mind  was  made  up  to  have  him  marry 
our  Vina." 

"What!  that  old  miser  ?  Jakes  !  and  'tis  a  mighty  mean  one 
that  he  is;  afore  I'd  see  him  marry'our  Vine  I'd  let  her  rot, 
and  wots  more,  I'd  go  and  help  the  sexton'dig  her  grave,  fur  it 
wouldn't  be  many  months  afore  Clayton  wud  give  him  the 
job." 

"But  he's  rich,  and  riches  is  power,  and  power  is  an  elevator; 
and  for  my  share,  I'd  like  elevation.  Now,  if  Vina  could  have 
married  Walter,  she  could  well  nigh  support  us,  and  we 
wouldn't  be  obliged  to  work  so. hard;  at  all  events,  there  would 
be  one  less  on  our  hands — one  less  to  dress,  and  that's  a  mighty 
big  thing  I'd  have  you  to  know." 

"To  buy  ribbons  and  furb'lows  fur.  Why  don't  you  put 
your  gals  to  doin'  somethin'?  Y'u'r  too  pesky  'fraid  they'll 
sile  their  lily-white  hands,  and  so  you  wash  an'  scrub  and  do 
nigh  onto  everything  yourself,  so  they  can  fset  'round  like  so 
many  .ladies ;  that's  no  way,  Mary  Ann  ;  set  'em  to  work ;  'tis 
no  determent  to  any  one  to  know  how;  any  feller,  if  he  knoze 
shucks,  '11  take  em  off  your  han's  twict  as  quick.  I  ruther  the 


26  THOSE  ORPHANS,  OR 

gals,  all  on  'em,  w'u'd  take  care  o'  'emselves  than  to  marry  that 
man." 

"Innocent  old  Hezekiah!  where's  your  brains?  you  don't 
know  any  more  than  our  little  banty  rooster ;  don't  know  that 
somebody  that  is  worth  while  will  be  taken  with  their  soft  ways 
and  delicate  hands.  No!  Kiah,  no!  I'd  work  my  fingers  down 
to  the  hubs,  before  my  daughter  should  take  up  with  one  of 
your  clod-hoppers.  They  shall  marry  rich,  for,  as  I  said  before, 
I  want  to  be  elevated." 

"And,"  added  Hezekiah,  with  a  peculiar  shrug,  "'twould 
histe  the  hull  on  us,  to  have  Vine  marry  old  Clayton !  " 

Whereupon,  enraged,  she  moved  backward,  and  unmindful 
of  the  trap  door,  fell  headlong  into  the  cellar. 

"Elevated,  Mary  Ann?  sureThow  do  you  like  it?  Hev  you 
hurt  you  much  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  come  quick!  I  think  I  am  dying!  don't  you  see 
the  blood  all  over  me  ?  " 

"Burst  an  artery,  mebby?" 

"  I  guess  so  and  broke  my  foot!  " 

"Wish  'twuz  your  tongue,  so  you  couldn't  use  it  on  me 
again,  or  yer  neck — ha !  ha !  Who's  got  the  brains  now,  Mary 
Ann?  as  little  as  Ize  blessed  with,  I'd  know  better  nor  to  shove 
my  chair  off  a  trap  door  when  it  was  wide  open." 

"  If  you  are  not  going  to  help  me,  say  so,  and  go  to  Guinea 
and  never  come  back  again !  "  Then  she  sprang  to  her  feet  and 
commenced  ascending  the  stairs. 

"Oh,  you  be  hurt,  aint  you,  Mary  Ann?"  he  added  in  all 
meekness,  frightened  that  she  was  indeed  upon  her  feet,  and 
hoping  to  ward  off  the  storm  of  bitter  words  by  making  hasty 
atonement  for  his  cruel  taunts.  "Let  me  git  the  camfire ; 
where's  the  gals?  tell  'em  to  bring  the  hartshorn.  Shan't  I  go 
directly  for  the  doctor?  I'm  so  sorry  you  be  hurt,  Mary  Ann." 

But  ever  after,  when  he  had  drank  sufficient  brandy  to  make 
him  courageous,  he  would  inquire,  "  How  do  you  like  your  ele- 
vashun,  Mary  Ann?" 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  2J 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"Whew!  what  a  blustering  storm,"  said  Mrs.  Tattum  the 
following  day.  "I  hate  to  travel  way  up  to  Clayton's;  but  I 
must  know  whether  Walter  is  going  to  take  a  wife.  I  have 
been  to  all  the  neighbors,  and  into  most  everybody's  house  in 
town,  and  no  one  seems  to  know  a  thing  about  it.  But  his 
mother  will  know,  and  I'll  get  it  out  of  her  through  strategy; 
it  takes  me.  I'm  as  good  as  the  chief  of  police  to  find  out 
people's  secrets." 

Once  making  up  her  mind,  nothing  could  change  her  pur- 
pose ;  so,  in  a  few  moments  she  was  on  her  way,  now  and  then 
trudging  through  snow-drifts  that  reached  nearly  to  her  waist. 
A  man  came  along  with  a  horse  and  sleigh,  and  asked  her  to 
ride  ;  she  was  glad  to  accept  the  invitation,  as  it  was  a  mile 
from  Mr.  Clayton's,  and  she  was  now  but  half  way. 

An  Irishman  just  going  to  shovel  snow:  "The  rig  I  have, 
ma'am,  is  a  gentleman's,  shure,"  he  said,  "who  is  sick,  and 
sent  it  home  by  me." 

It  was  not  long  before  the  snow  was  so  deep  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  proceed  further  without  clearing  the  way ;  and  as 
Pat  was  about  to  alight,  his  horse  reared,  plunged,  and  upset 
the  sleigh,  turning  them  both  into  the  deepest  of  the  snow. 
Once  relieved  of  its  burden,  it  was  soon  through  the  drift,  and 
running  with  its  utmost  speed  in  the  direction  of  home. 

Pat  was  soon  upon  his  feet  and  looking  for  his  companion, 
but  he  could  only  see  a  portion  of  her  dress  above  the  snow. 


28  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

Clutching  at  this  and  giving  it  a  pull,  he  hallooed  at  the  top  of 
his  voice,  "Come  out  of  this,  laddie,  and  be  quick  wid  yer- 
self!"  But  she  had  become  so  benumbed  she  could  neither 
speak  nor  stir. 

"  All  Holy  Saints  !  she's  did  thin.  Och  !  the  poor  soul ;  I'll 
make  her  hear  me  now,  if  she's  alive."  Then  again  grasping 
her  dress,  he  screamed  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  ' '  Come  out  uv 
here,  I  tell  yez;"  still  she  did  not  move;  she  moaned  slightly. 

"Do  ye  hear,  Patsey;  I  tell  yez  now,  boy,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, "get  yer  spade  and  dig  the  laddie  out,  an'  who  knows  but 
she  might  be  a  rich  laddie,  and  will  give  yez  a  hansame  christ- 
mas  gift?" 

It  was  not  long  before  he  succeeded  in  getting  her  into  a 
sitting  position ;  but  she  was  unable  now  to  rise  to  her  feet. 
Just  here  he  bethought  himself  of  his  flask  of  whisky,  and, 
uncorking  it,  pressed  it  to  her  lips,  saying,  "  A  drap  uv  the 
crayther,  dear  laddie,  '11  set  yez  all  right  agin.  Ize  a  temp'rance 
mon  an'  so  are  yez  ;  but  it's  wondrous  revivin'." 

He  had  not  anticipated  her  ready  acquiescence,  or  he  would 
not  have  made  the  request — and  certainly  not  to  the  extent  of 
her  grasping  the  bottle  and  swallowing  its  contents  to  the  last 
"wee  drop."  "  Och  !  och  !  "  he  exclaimed  in  anger,  snatching 
it  from  her,  ' '  Yez  can  walk  now,  sure,  or  I'll  lave  yez  here  to 
die." 

She  once  more  put  forth  an  effort,  but  failed. 

"Well,  well,  then  !"  he  said,  relaxing  his  frigidity  of  man- 
ner, "  I  see  yez  can't;  but  faith,  that  whisky  arter  put  a  head 
on  old  Gerliar;  well,  I've  strapped  mony  a  hog  across  my 
shoulder,  and  can  do  it  agin,  sure.  So  yez  jest  elapse  yez 
arms  about  my  neck,  and  I'll  carry  yez  into  yon  house." 

Mrs.  Tattum  did  his  bidding.  A  moment  more  and  he  was 
striving  to  gain  the  opposite  side  of  the  drift.  Though  it  was  a 
heavy  load  for  Pat,  yet,  puffing  and  blowing,  with  the  great 
drops  of  sweat  falling  from  his  red,  round  face,  he  would  have 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  2Q 

succeeded  had  she  not  relaxed  her  hold  and  fallen  back  heavily 
into  the  snow. 

She  had  espied  the  pastor  of  her  church  in  the  distance,  and 
not  wishing  him  to  see  her  in  this  situation,  had  dropped  her- 
self purposely  from  Pat's  neck.  But  she  was  a  little  too  late ; 
and  though  he  was  aware  something  strange  and  mysterious 
had  happened,  some  serious  accident,  perhaps,  he  could  not 
help  laughing  at  the  ridiculous  figure  before  him.  He  was, 
however,  soon  out  of  his  sleigh,  and  helping  Pat  to  place  her 
between  two  nice,  warm  robes,  with  a  soapstone  at  her  feet,  and 
hurrying  his  two  fleet  ponies  as  fast  as  possible  towards  her 
home. 

"  I  was  going  to  visit  the  sick,  or  I  should  never  have  ven- 
tured out  into  the  storm,"  she  feebly  remarked. 

"Very  kind — very  kind,  indeed,  Sister  Tattum. " 

' '  You  see,  a  particular  friend  lies  at  the  point  of  death,  and 
sent  for  me." 

"  You  got  into  the  snow,  Sister?  " 

"  Well,  yes,  yes,  I  did,"  she  replied,  looking  confused. 

"I  am  glad  I  happened  along.  By  the  way,  Sister,  I  must 
thank  you  for  that  fine  lot  of  poultry  you  sent  me.  Do  you 
raise  turkeys  ?" 

By  this  time  Pat's  whisky  was  running  riot  in  her  brain, 
causing  her  to  tell  more  truth  than  she  had  for  many  a  long  day. 

"That  are  turkey  I  sent  you  over,  Parson  Grey,  was  a 
pesky,  wesky,  mean,  aggressive  beast  of  prey,  what  belonged 
to  that  close-communion,  tight-fisted  Deacon  Jones,  and  was 
continually  bothering  the  life  and  soul  out  of  me ;  and  so  I 
thought  the  best  Christian  act  I  could  do  towards  promulgating 
the  Gospel,  was  to  kill  it  and  send  it  to  you.  And  them  are 
four  chickens  was  worse  on  me  all  summer,  than  the  turkey — 
stole  all  their  feed  out  of  my  back  yard ;  so  I  took  out  a  big 
pan  of  corn,  and  hadn't  no  trouble  catching  them  at  all,  as  I 
guess  as  how  they  knode  me,  for  I  was  always  throwing  them 
out  feed,  whenever  I  saw  them  coming  in  sight ;  but,  when  I 


3<D  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

got  them  killed"  (slapping  her  breast),  " my  conscience  give 
me  a  great  big  thump  right  here,  and  I  couldn't  eat  them  after 
all,  for  I  thought  it  might  be  a  sin  to  wring  the  heads  off  of 
other  folk's  property,  and  so  I  sent  them  to  you."  (Crying) — 
"Oh,  the  poor,  benighted  heathen,  how  I  wish  I  could  help 
them  more  than  what  I  do !  When  I  see  them  are  fellers  in 
heathenish  darkness,  how  I  pray  for  money  to  get  them  out! 
Don't  you  think,  Parson  Grey,  I'd  make  a  good  missionary?" 

Then  changing  her  voice  to  a  sing-song  tone,  "I  like  to 
forgot  to  tell  you,  Parson  Grey,  that  Hezakier  and  I  had  a 
big  rowdy,  de,  dowdy,  de  dow,  yesterday ;  and  he  knocked  me 
down  cellar,  back-end-to.  I  believe  I'll  get  a  divorce,  wouldn't 
you?  But  he  couldn't  kill  me;  I  jumped  up  and  told  him  I 
wished  he'd  go  to  Guinea  and  never  come  back.  I'm  the  boss 
of  that  old  feller,  after  all !  "  Then  returning  to  the  sorrowful 
tone,  she  said,  "Poor  Hezakier,  he's  so  sinful  and  grovelling! 
but  if  he'd  only  join  the  church  and  go  to  meeting  with  me,  I'd 
forgive  him  for  all  he  has  done ;  but  the  poor,  old,  drunken 
cuss,  you  needn't  never  expect  nothin'  good  from  him  !  " 

"When  rum  is  in,  wit  is  out,'  thought  Parson  Grey.  "The 
poor  woman  is  intoxicated,  but  she  is  not  to  blame ;  and,  as 
for  all  this  idle  talk,  I  shall  never  speak  of  it,  for,  of  course,  it 
is  not  true.  How  kind  of  her  to  expose  herself  in  that  wild 
storm,  for  a  friend;  'tis  just  like  her!  Strange,  strange,  she  is 
a  poor  woman,  but  she  gives  far  more  liberally  than  many  of 
our  more  wealthy  members." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  31 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  wedding  is  over  and  Elice  is  seated  in  the  cars  by  the  side 
of  her  husband,  bound  for  their  future  home.  She  was  happy, 
and  who  would  not  be  in  possession  of  the  love  of  a  great, 
manly  heart,  with  the  pure  kisses  of  his  devotion  still  warm 
upon  her  lips  ? 

True,  she  had  left  a  home  of  plenty  ;  never  in  all  her  life  had 
she  known  what  it  was  to  want ;  never  had  she  been  sick,  but  a 
mother's  gentle  hand  had  ministered  to  every  wish  ;  a  father's 
loving  arms  thrown  out  at  all  times  to  lift  her  out  of  her  distress, 
to  gather  her  to  his  bosom.  But,  if  they  had  been  kind  ;  if  they 
had  been  so  anxious  for  her  welfare,  how  much  more  would  he 
be,  who,  as  he  said,  was  henceforth  to  live  only  for  the  love  of 
his  wife ;  who  would  worship  her  as  the  star  of  his  life  and 
home. 

These  were  her  thoughts  as  she  rolled  away  on  the  train 
bound  for  Cambden,  as  her  dear  old  home  with  all  its  pleasant 
associations  as  left  in  the  distance — that  little  nest,  as  she 
termed  it,  upon  the  banks  of  the^  Cohocton — the  centering 
point  of  all  that  had  made  life  worth  living  for;  but  never  more 
dear  to  her  than  on  this  morning  when  her  idols  were  left  be- 
hind her,  and  forever  ;  and  she  was  to  make  a  home  for  all  fu- 
ture time  among  strangers — "  in  a  strange  land." 

And  what  were  they  like  ?  she  thought.  Would  they  take 
her  to  their  hearts,  would  they  love  her  as  her  own  in  the  sweet 
valley  of  Woodville  ?  How  did  the  children  look?  Would 


32  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

they  like  her  ?  She  did  not  doubt  it,  for  they  usually  did.  But 
then,  she  was  a  step-mother ;  she  had  seen  something  of  their 
trials  ;  but  it  would  be  different  with  her,  for  she  would  strive  so 
hard  to  do  nothing  for  which  she  could  be  blamed. 

They  had  not  yet  reached  Cambden  when  she  had  a  hard 
headache.  "  Oh,  dear!"  she  said,  pressing  both  hands  upon  her 
burning  brow. 

"  Are  you  sick?"  said  her  husband,  looking  coldly  upon  her, 
"  I  thought  I  had  married  a  healthy  woman," 

"Oh,  no,"  said  she  timidly,  "not  sick,  only — only — you 
know  it  is  a  great  deal  for  a  young  girl  to  leave  all  her  friends, 
and  I  did  not  get  much  sleep  last  night." 

Had  an  arrow  pierced  her,  she  could  not  have  felt  so  badly ; 
every  vestige  of  color  faded  from  her  cheeks  and  lips,  and  she 
looked  as  if  she  might  have  fallen  dead,  then  and  there,  at  his 
feet.  Not  heeding  her  agony,  he  still  kept  on  reading  his 
newspaper. 

Soon  they  they  reached  Cambden,  the  terminus  of  their  rail- 
way journey ;  and  though  the  winds  blew  high  and  the  snow 
came  whirling  down  so  that  it  was  almost  blinding,  it  was  a 
sweet  relief  to  Elice  to  alight,  that  she  might  feel  the  cold  air 
once  more  upon  her  cheeks. 

Being  obliged  to  remain  an  hour  or  more  at  this  place,  he 
ordered  a  coachman  to  drive  them  to  a  hotel. 

Arriving  there,  he  asked  carelessly  if  she  still  had  the  head- 
ache; he  hoped  she  would  not  be  a  sickly  woman,  for  they 
were  no  comfort  to  themselves  nor  anyone  else  about  them. 
Then  excusing  himself  for  a  few  moments,  to  arrange  some 
business  matters,  he  left  the  room. 

When  alone,  Elice  wheeled  a  rocking  chair  around  to  the 
window,  and  throwing  herself  down,  gave  way  to  a  burst  of 
grief  such  as  she  had  never  known  before ;  and  exclaimed  in 
all  the  bitterness  of  her  soul,  "Mother!  mother!"  and  then 
her  thoughts  turned  backward  to  her  childhood,  to  the  cool- 
ing draughts  and  soft  hands  upon  her  fevered  brow,  the  ten- 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  33 

der  solicitude  of  that  dear  one  who,  she  remembered,  had  so 
often  arisen  at  the  midnight  hour,  and  trodden  upon  tip-toe,  so 
that  if  asleep  she  might  not  awaken  her,  to  tuck  her  in  more 
snugly  if  the  night  were  cold,  and  then  leave  with  a  kiss  upon 
her  cheek. 

' '  I  wonder  if  Walter  Clayton  will  always  remain  as  he  is 
now;  what  could  I  have  done  to  offend  him  ?" 

Soon  her  husband  returned,  and  approaching  Elice,  said  he 
hoped  she  was  better ;  but  the  fact  was  he  had  this  little  busi- 
ness on  his  mind  and  she  must  excuse  him  for  his  seeming 
lack  of  attention ;  it  was  very  hard  to  be  sick,  and  wished  to 
know  if  he  could  do  anything  for  her. 

With  her  eyes  cast  down  to  the  floor,  she  aswered  meekly, 
"I  was  afraid  you  did  not  love  me." 

"  Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  did  feel  a  little  out  of  sorts 
when  you  commenced  complaining  so  soon  ;  for  when  a  man 
gets  a  wife,  he  wants  one  that  is  not  everlastingly  in  the  dumps; 
and  I  thought,  supposing  you  were  one  of  that  sort,  what 
would  become  of  me  and  the  children !  Now,  my  first  wife 
was  never  sick  a  day  in  her  life,  and  she  was  such  a  busy  little 
body,  always  seeing  if  there  were  not  something  to  do;  and  it 
would  seem  kind  of  awkward  like  if — well,  if  I  had  got  one 
that  was  not  healthy.  You  look  so  pale  and — and — well,  I 
thought  you  could  not  be  very  stout,  to  say  the  least,  and  it 
made  me  feel  badly." 


34  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"Well!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Tattum,  rushing  into  Mrs.  Jones's, 
her  favorite  resort,  who  lived  just  across  the  garden,  "they  do 
say  Walter  Clayton  has  just  arrived  with  his  new  wife ;  that  she 
was  a  widow,  and  had  as  many  as  two  or  three  children,  and  is 
as  homely  as  a  hedge  fence,  and  her  folks  is  not  rich  either ; 
and  they  say — well,  they  say — they  say — they  say — " 

"Why!  do  tell !"  responded  Mrs.  Jones,  "I  wonder  if  he 
had  to  go  way  down  there  to  get  him  a  woman,  when  there  are 
so  many  here  that  are  just  crazy  to  have  him  for  a  son-in-law." 

"  Tisn't  me,"  answered  Mrs.  Tattum. 

"  You're  the  very  one,"  said  Clorinda,  one  of  the  daughters, 
"and,  furthermore,  I  was  very  near  Walter  Clayton  and  his 
wife ;  saw  them  through  the  window  of  the  old  stage  coach  as 
they  turned  up  to  his  brother-in-law's,  Major  Cliffton ;  and  she 
does  not  look  a  day  older  than  seventeen,  and  is  as  fair  as  a  lily; 
and  I  don't  believe  she  ever  could  have  been  a  widow." 

"Well,"  Mrs.  Tattum  answered  sarcastically,  "she  isn't  an 
angel  like  his  first  one ;  for  all  she  lacked  was  the  wings,  that 
is,  some  folks  said  so ;  and  now  that  she's  dead  and  gone,  she 
surely  was.  For  my  part,  looking  out  of  my  two  eyes,  I  could 
never  see  that  she  was  any  better  than  I  am,  or  most  any  other 
kind  of  a  good  body." 

"Nor  me,  either,"  replied  'Mrs.  Jones  ;  "but  I  kinder  liked 
the  woman,  though,  because  she  was  real  industrious ;  and 
somehow  I  take  to  folks  who  know  how  to  work  and  keep  their 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  35 

house  in  order ;  and  they  did  say  that  she  was  as  neat  as  a  new 
pin,  though  I  wasn't  myself  acquainted  with  her — wasn't  never 
in  her  house  in  my  life ;  but  as  for  her  being  any  better  than 
other  folks  that  are  just  as  good  as '  she  is,  I  don't  believe  it  at 
all, — good  enough,  but  no  better  than  your  daughter  nor  mine, 
Mrs.  Tattum.  They  say  that  she  nor  her  husband  didn't  agree 
none  too  well,  anyway,  though  there  were  very  few  what 
knowed  it ;  but  who  was  to  blame,  I  don't  know,  nor  don't 
care;  though  you  never  see  two  people  what  didn't  live  agree- 
able but  what  one  was  to  blame  as  much  as  the  other,  or  very 
nigh  on  to  it.  Although  I  never  liked  him  since  he  came  and 
took  the  last  cow  I  had  for  store  debt,  when  I  told  him  if  he'd 
wait  about  two  weeks  I'd  have  the  money  to  pay  him ;  and,  of 
course,  I  hate  him  like  pizen." 

"  Me  too,"  said  Mrs.  Tattum  ;  "we  were  in  the  same  box — 
we  owed  him  a  little  bill ;  and,  because  we  couldn't  get  around 
just  at  the  time,  he  cleaned  us  out,  'bag  and  baggage.'  I'd 
liked  awful  well,  to  give  him  a  dose  ,of  ratsbane  ;  but  I've  got 
over  it  now,  though  I  always  think  of  a  snake  when  I  see  him; 
no  one  knows  when  they  are  going  to  be  bitten  by  it.  We've 
never  traded  one  cent  with  him  since,  though  he's  come  around 
as  sweet  as  peaches  and  cream.  But  I'm  going  into  Major  Cliff- 
ton's  this  evening,  to  see  Walter  and  his  new  wife;  I  can  pret- 
ty soon  tell  what  kind  of  stuff  she's  made  of." 

"She  ought  to  be  made  of  forked  lightning  and  bullets," 
spoke  Clorinda.  ' '  I  happen  to  know  all  about  Walter  Clayton ; 
and  arty  woman  would  have  to  be  iron-hearted  and  iron-framed 
to  get  along  with  him.  I'd  like  to  have  him  to  deal  with,  I'd 
kill  him  if  I  could.  I  worked  for  them  three  weeks,  and  I  was 
exasperated  with  him  the  whole  time  the  way  he  treated  his 
poor  wife  ;  she  was  one  of  the  dearest  little  creatures  that  ever 
lived ;  she  never  gave  him  a  cross  word — never  said  anything  to 
hurt  his  feelings  ;  and  seemed  to  strive  so  hard  to  keep  him 
good  natured.  But  he  was  continually  finding  fault ;  she  did 
not  do  this  thing  right,  nor  the  other  thing,  and  it  was  fret,  and 


36  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

fret,  from   morning  till  night,  whenever  he  was  in  the  house." 

"  Come,  Clorinda,  we'll  go  and  get  a  squint  at  the  bride  this 
evening ;  we'll  make  some  excuse  and  they'll  never  know  our 
errand,"  said  Mrs.  Tattum. 

"  No,  ma'am !  now,  I'd  as  soon  meet  the  devil  as  that  man, 
for  I  hate  him — I  loathe  him  !  " 

"  Well,  well,  then  I'll  go  myself." 

"Be  sure  and  come  back  then,  and  tell  us  all  about  her, 
won't  you  ?" 

"Good  evening,  Mrs.  Cliffton,"  said  Mrs.  Tattum  upon  en- 
tering that  lady's  domicile,  "  I  hope  you  are  well :  I  came  over 
to  see  if  you  would  lend  me  your  last  magazine,  to  look  at  the 
fashions  and  read  the  stories ;  I  am  very  much  interested  in 
Knickerbocker  Moses' — la  !  me  !  you  haven't  got  company, 
have  you  ?  If  I'd  a  known  it  I  wouldn't  have  come,  no  how ; 
why  didn't  you  send  a  little  bird  and  tell  me?  who  are  they?  " 

"  My  brother  Walter  and  his  wife." 

"I'm  so  sorry  I  came.  I  wouldn't  have  come  for  anything 
if  I'd  a  known  it ;  but  seeing  I'm  here,  introduce  me.  You 
see  I  knew  his  first  wife  and  always  liked  her  so  well !  I  feel 
wonderfully  interested  in  the  family ;  no  doubt  he's  got  a  nice 
woman — one  that  will  be  good  to  those  poor  little  orphan  chil- 
dren. Is  that  she?"  glancing  into  the  room  where  she  was 
seated. 

"  Why!  she's  as  pretty  as  a  pink,  and  she  looks  as  if  she 
might  be  good  enough  ;  "  she  was  going  to  add,  "  a  thousand 
times  too  good  for  Walter,"  but  remembering  to  whom  she  was 
talking,  said — ' '  good  enough  for  any  man  living !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Cliffton,  "  I  knew  her  when  she  was  a  little 
child,  and  have  known  the  family  ever  since." 

"  Was  she  a  widow?" 

"  She  was  not." 

"I  guess  I'll  just  step  in  and  speak  to  her,  if  you've  no 
objections." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  37" 

In  a  moment  more  she  was  in  the  parlor,  face  to  face  with 
Elice. 

"Mrs.  Clayton,  !  s'pose — I  am  Mrs.  Tattum.  You  seel 
come  over  here  for  a  magazine,  and  nothing  would  do  but  Mrs. 
Cliffton  would  have  me  come  in  and  see  you  ;  I'm  not  dressed 
up  much,  but  I  s'pose  you'll  excuse  me  ;  I  didn't  know  you 
were  here,  or  I'd  slipped  on  another  dress.  I'm  well  acquainted 
with  your  mother-in-law,  and  she'll  be  tickled  almost  to  death 
to  think  you've  come  " — then  to  herself,  "  in  a  horn."  "  Does 
she  know  you're  here  ?  You  know,  I  s'pose,  she's  got  those 
children  of  his.  I  suppose  you'll  go  to  keeping  house  right 
away  and  take  them  from  her ;  or,  are  you  going  to  board  ? 
Were  you  ever  to  Lavarre  before?  How  do  you  like  it? 
You  will  probably  wait  till  morning  before  you  go  up  to  the  old 
man's  ?  They  live  about  a  mile  out  in  the  country.  I  don't  like 
the  old  woman  much,  because  I  think  she  is  very  deceitful ;  but 
may  be  you'll  like  her — I  hope  so.  She  pretends  to  be  terribly 
attached  to  those  young  ones,  but  she  whips  them  once  in  a 
while,  for  I've  seen  her  do  it;  but  it  won't  do  for  you  to  touch 
them,  or  the  fat  will  be  all  in  the  fire ;  and  when  it's  there,  it 
will  flash  up  and  scorch  those  pretty  fingers  of  yours.  Well,  I 
don't  envy  you  old  Walter  Clayton,  if  he  is  rich.  Did  you 
know  he  was  rich  ?  May  be  you  married  him  for  his  money? 
He  tried  awful  hard  to  get  one  of  my  girls,  but  there  wasn't 
one  of  them  would  have  him :  they  call  him  an  old  sharper 
about  here,  and  worse  too — an  old  miser." 

"What!"  was  the  simple  response  of  Elice,  confused  and 
indignant,  that  any  one  should  dare  to  speak  thus  of  her  hus- 
band. 

Mrs.  Tattum  saw  this,  and  said,  "Well,  little  one,  you 
needn't  get  your  back  up,  for  it's  the  truth;  and  if  you  are  not 
sorry  before  the  year  is  out,  you  set  yourself  down  along  side 
of  Walter  Clayton,  my  name  isn't  Mary  Ann  Tattum.  You 
are  too  pretty,  and  too  fresh,  and  too  innocent-like,  for  that 
man ;  he  wants  one  that'll  scratch  his  eyes  out,  and  put  them 


38  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

in  again,  if  necessary.  But  I  guess  you'll  get  along  very  well ; 
I  hope  so,  any  way.  You  were  never  married  before,  were 
you?  I  heard  so,  but  I  didn't  believe  it — I  said  so  to  Mrs. 
Jones.  Is  your  father  and  mother  living?  Are  they  pretty 
well  to  do  in  the  world?  Oh,  I  suppose  so,  or  that  old  miser 
wouldn't  wanted  you.  Did  you  leave  them  well?" 

Not  waiting  replies  to  her  many  questions,  she  bade  Elice 
good  night,  repeated  all  she  had  seen  and  heard,  and  more, — 
that  she  imagined. 

Elice  thought  her  intoxicated,  and  asked  Mrs.  ClifFton  if  this 
were  the  case. 

"I  think  so,  by  the  way  she  talked  and  appeared;  if  not,  I 
have  been  deceived.  She  does  imbibe  occasionally,  but  is  very 
sly  about  it." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  39 


CHAPTER  IX. 

On  the  following  day,  as  soon  as  they  had  breakfasted,  Walter 
and  his  wife  started  on  their  way  for  the  farm-house,  the  resi- 
dence of  old  Mr.  Clayton.  It  was  a  pleasant  place — a  large, 
square  stone,  surmounted  by  a  cupola,  overhung  in  summer 
with  green  vines  and  climbing  roses ;  shaded  by  tall  maples  and 
huge  old  apple  trees,  within  whose  boughs  birds  of  almost 
every  name  and  nature  built  their  nests  and  reared  their  young. 
Then  there  was  a  large  orchard,  and  great,  green  meadows, 
grazing  fields  of  lowing  cattle  and  sheep  and  horses;  the  old 
spring  down  in  the  valley,  whose  stones  were  covered  over  with 
mosses ;  the  woodland,  just  at  hand,  filled  with  violets  and  all 
manner  of  sweet  wild  flowers. 

Elice  had  heard  a  description  of  the  place  before,  and,  oh, 
how  she  wished,  as  she  rode  along  through  the  deep  snow,  that 
spring  had  come ;  and  in  imagination  she  was  roaming  over 
those  fields,  gathering  daises  and  buttercups,  listening  to  the 
sweet  chirping  of  the  bluebird  and  robin,  as  they  poured  forth 
their  notes  from  the  twigs  of  those  ancient  trees.  As  they 
neared  the  house,  she  felt  her  heart  warmed  in  a  strange  degree 
towards  its  inmates. 

"And  so  you've  come?"  said  Mrs.  Clayton,  "and  this  is 
your  wife,  Walter?"  as  she  met  them  at  the  door.  "Come 
here,  children,  this  is  your  mamma."  The  elder,  Blanche,  a 
girl  of  four  summers,  stood  back,  and  with  her  dark,  expressive 
eyes,  scanned  Elice  for  a  few  moments,  when  she  abruptly 


4O  THOSE  ORPHANS,  'OR 

broke  forth  with  the  words,  "No,  'taint  nuther;  my  mamma's 
in  the  ground;  big  man  covered  her  all  up  with  dirt  and  green 
thods,  and  s'e  couldn't  get  out  no  how.  How  can  s'e  be  my 
mamma?  " 

"But  this  is  another  one,"  said  Elice,  taking  her  upon  her 
lap  and  kissing  away  her  tears,  "You  will  love  me,  won't 
you  ?  " 

"Will  you  be  dood  to  me  and  not  stold  me,  nor  whip  me? 
My  mamma  was  angel ;  s'e's  angel  now,  ain't  s'e?  " 

"Yes,  sweet,"  said  Elice,  clasping  her  more  closely  to  her 
heart,  "  I  believe  your  mamma  is  up  in  heaven — a  beautiful,  shin- 
ing spirit;  that  she  watches  over  you,  and  sees  all  you  do. 
You  will  one  day  go  to  her;  you  will  sometime  see  her." 

"Oh!  will  I  ever  see  my  mamma  again — my  dear,  dear 
mamma?" 

"Yes,  God  took  her  to  himself  to  live  in  Heaven,  where  all 
good  little  children  go  when  they  die,  and  every  body  who  loves 
the  Saviour  and  will  my  little  girl  love  him  ?" 

"  What  did  he  do  that  for  ?  What  ?  do  you  ask  me  to  love 
thutch  a  man  as  that  ith  ?  I  was  always  mad  at  that  man  what 
frode  dirt  all  over  my  mamma.  Now,  if  you  say  Dod  took 
her  away  from  me,  when  I  loved  her  so — oh,  I  loved  her  so  ! — 
I  hate  Dod,  and  I  won't  never  like  him." 

Elice  drew  her  head  upon  her  bosom  and  remained  silent, 
while  the  child  gave  vent  to  an  uncontrollable  torrent  of  tears. 
She  knew  it  was  better  to  say  nothing  more  to  her  at  pres- 
ent ;  in  fact,  what  could  she  say  ?  Not  anything  that  would  reach 
the  little  one's  consciousness  ;  she  could  only  lift  her  heart  to 
the  great  God  above,  to  pour  the  oil  of  peace  and  consolation 
into  her  sorrowing  heart. 

She  had  hardly  framed  her  prayer  before  Blanche  had  fallen 
asleep.  She  laid  her  away  in  her  little  crib  and  then,  taking  up 
Charlie,  the  baby-boy,  she  showered  his  face  with  kisses  ;  and 
while  he  laughed  and  crowed  in  her  arms,  she  felt  what  a  sweet 
responsibility  had  fallen  upon  her — the  care  of  this  darling  child; 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  41 

and  how  proud  she  would  be  of  them  both,  and  wished  from 
her  inmost  soul  that  they  were  indeed  her  own,  and  then,  she 
could  rear  them  untrammeled  by  the  cold  eyes  of  suspicion,  the 
fear  of  which  had  suddenly  stolen  upon  her. 

Dinner  over,  the  mother-in-law  brought  out  several  dress  pat- 
terns  for  the  children  and  showed  them  to  Elice — said,  "They 
have  been  lying  in  the  house  a  long  while,  and  I  couldn't  get 
time  to  make  them  up.  Can  you  sew  any?  I  hope  so,  for  it 
cost  so  much  to  hire  it  done  ;  and  as  you  are  going  to  live  in 
town,  and  won't  have  anything  else  to  do  but  your  little  house 
work,  and  take  care  of  the  children,  you  can  do  it  just  as  well  as 
not.  Of  course,  Walter  always  keeps  two  cows,  but  you  can  do 
the  churning  and  take  care  of  the  milk  when  the  children  are 
asleep,  in  the  morning,  and  all  the  sewing  at  night  after  they 
are  gone  to  bed  ;  and  then,  you  will  have  lots  of  chances  be- 
tween times,  for  the  children  isn't  no  bother  at  all ;  sure,  Charlie 
will  want  to  be  tended  a  considerable,  he  is  so  small,  and 
Blanche  took  up  now  and  then,  for  she  ain't  much  better  than 
a  baby,  for  they  were  both  always  rocked  asleep  here — father 
takes  one,  and  I  take  the  other  on  our  laps  ;  and  the  little  things 
are  not  very  heavy,  and  you're  young  and  strong  and  can  hold 
them  both." 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  said  Elice  with  a  slight  smile  she  could  not 
suppress,  "  I  could  take  Blanche  on  one  knee  and  Charlie  on 
the  other,  couldn't  I,  pets  ?  Come  here  and  let  me  see  how 
heavy  you  are — now  spring,  Blanche  ;  well,  you  are  quite  light. 
Bring  Charlie,  too  ;  come,  black-eyes — well,  I've  a  lap  full  of 
babies,  havn'tl?"  And  the  children  laughed  till  they  cried, 
they  thought  it  was  so  much  sport. 

"  How  much  do  they  weigh,  mother?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  how  much  ;  I  wouldn't  think  more'n  a 
hundred  pounds,  both  on  "em." 

"That's  riot  much,"  said  Elice,  striving  to  be  composed* 

"  Wall,  you  see,"  continued  the  old  lady,  "  their  own  mother 
3 


42  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

dressed  'em  up  twict  every  day.  She  said  she  'druther  do  it 
than  not  have  them  clean  and  neat ;  and  my  darter  Ann  has 
some  little  fellows  she  keeps  awful  tidy.  Of  course  you  are  a 
good  washer  and  ironer  ?  I  hope  so,  because  it  costs  a  good 
deal  to  hire  it  done,  and  you  know  you'll  have  nothing  else  to 
do,  as  I  said  before,  only  your  little  house  work  and  to  look 
after  them  poor,  little  motherless  children." 

"Yes,"  said  Elice,  not  knowing  whether  to  laugh  or  cry, 
"we'll  manage  that,  won't  we  birdies?"  giving  each  of  a  them 
a  kiss. 

"Wall,  I'm  glad  of  it,"  she  continued,  "for  I  told  Walter 
that  I  always  heard  you  had  been  brought  up  to  go  to  school, 
and  I  was  afraid  you  didn't  know  nothin'  about  work  ;  and  you 
was  so  kind  of  white  looking  like,  I  didn't  know  but  you  might 
be  sickly.  You  know,  Elice,  that  would  make  it  bad  for  poor 
Walter,  and  them  little  motherless  things.  Can  you  knit  ? 
Now  the  fact  is,  I've  had  so  much  to  do,  that  I  hain't  had  no 
chance  to  knit  the  children  any  stockings,  and  my  darter  goes  to 
the  'cademy,  so  she  has  to  study  her  lessons,  and  she  don't 
have  no  time  to  help  me  much  ;  but  you'll  have  lots  of  time. 
Now,  when  my  children  was  little  I  used  to  keep  a  big  bag  of 
stockings  all  the  while — all  kinds  of  knitting  in  every  hole  and 
corner  of  the  house  ;  these  was  for  ketch-up  work,  evenings 
and  when  I  went  a  visiting.  You  see,  if  one  employs  every 
minute,  they  can  accomplish  more'n  than  any  one  would  dream 
of;  then,  if  they're  kinder  lazy  and  good  for  nothin',  everything 
kinder  goes  to  loose  ends — now  ain't  that  so?  " 

"I  suppose  it  is,"  answered  Elice. 

"Wall,  one  thing  more,  I  happened  to  think  of:  if  I  was  in 
your  place,  I'd  make  the  children  some  sunbonnets  right  away 
so  to  have  them  ready  for  hot  weather.  You  know  it  will  be 
kind  of  nat'ral  like  fer  'em  to  want  to  run  out  and  play  a  good 
deal ;  and  Charlie'll  be  so  he'll  want  to  run  around  by  that  time 
and  they  orto  wear  somethin'  on  their  heads  to  keep  the  sun 
from  burning  up  their  faces.  I  was  going  to  make  'em  hoods 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  43 

all  winter,  but  the  fact  is,  I  haint  had  a  minnit  of  time,  the 
little  things  hev  kept  me  so  busy  waiting  on  'em,  and  they're 
so  mischievous,  I  had  to  watch  'em  a  good  deal  too  ;  so  you 
see  its  took  me  all  the  while  to  look  out  for  them." 

"  Without  doubt,"  replied  Elice. 

Some  ladies  called,  and  Elice  was  glad  of  a  respite  from  the 
unceasing  tongue  that  had  so  skilfully  and,  as  the  old  lady 
thought,  so  successfully,  planned  for  her  future  employment. 

It  is  bed  time ;  Walter  had  returned  to  town  where  he  was 
extensively  engaged  in  mercantile  operations,  and  had  not  yet 
arrived.  And  as  Elice  felt  fatigued,  she  went  to  the  room  ap- 
propriated to  her  use,  and  lay  down  upon  the  sofa  awaiting 
his  arrival. 

Reader,  imagine  her  feelings,  if  you  can.  Do  you  think 
they  were  such  as  to  produce  sweet  sleep  and  pleasant  visions  ? 

We  will  see.  With  eyes  closed — bujt  whether  awake  or  not, 
we  scarcely  can  tell — a  great  panorama  spread  out  before  her, 
in  which  more  sorrow  was  pictured  than  happiness.  Beautiful 
streams  and  winding  paths ;  on  either  side  lofty  trees  covered 
with  rich  foliage ;  all  along,  green  grass  and  flowers,  so  varied 
in  their  hues — beautiful  enough  to  deck  the  fairy  bower  of  a 
queen  ;  bird  notes  floating  in  perfumed  air,  filling  her  soul  with 
rapture  as  she  listened.  Looking  again  she  beheld  huge  ser- 
pents, with  slimy  breath  and  forked  tongues,  coiled  or  drag- 
ging their  length  through  and  over  them  all ;  while  all  the  flow- 
ers were  withering  at  her  feet,  and  the  songs  of  her  gay,  plumed 
darlings  were  no  more  heard.  And  she  uttered  a  cry  so  pierc- 
ing, that  it  startled  her  husband  who  had  just  entered  the  room 
at  the  time. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Elice  ?  "  he  said. 

''Oh,  nothing,"  she  replied,  rubbing  her  eyes,  "  I  guess  I 
was  asleep.  I'm  so  glad  you  have  come!  "  But  she  did  not 
tell  him  her  dream,  for  thus  soon  she  had  learned  it  was  not  to 
him  she  could  confide  her  troubles  expecting  sympathy. 


44  THOSE  ORPHANS,  OR 


CHAPTER  X. 

"Mrs.  Clayton,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  addressing  his  wife, 
after  they  were  quite  alone,  "what  made  you  go  on  with  such 
a  tirade  to  Walter's  wife,  and  expatiate  so  largely  on  her  duties 
— the  poor,  little  homesick  child  ?  I  consider  it  an  insult  to  any 
sensible  person ;  I  believe  in  every  one  keeping  his  own  door- 
yard  clean.  Did  you  ever  read  your  Bible,  6th  chap.  Matthew, 
3rd  verse? — '  Cast  the  beam  out  of  thine  own  eye,  then  shalt 
thou  see  clearly  to  cast  the  mote  out  of  thy  brother's  eye.' 
Now  you  know  as  well  as  I  do,  that  these  children  are  kept 
none  of  the  tidiest ;  they  oftentimes  go  ragged  and  dirty,  and 
with  their  hair  uncombed.  No  longer  ago  than  this  morning, 
the  baby's  face  was  smeared  two  hours  after  you  had  given  him 
bread  and  molasses  to  keep  him  quiet ;  and  you  never  washed 
it  until  you  saw  Walter  drawing  in  sight ;  and  Blanche  was  like 
a  little  house  pig." 

"John,"  she  replied,  while  she  was  vexed  beyond  all  descrip- 
tion, "I  consider  it  a  Christian  duty  to  look  after  those  poor, 
little,  motherless  children.  Didn't  she,  their  own  mother,  on 
her  deathbed,  ask  me  to  watch  tenderly  over  them  ?" 

"She  said  simply  this,  and  nothing  farther,  'Oh,  who  will 
look  after  my  little  spirit  angels  when  I  am  gone  ?  who  will  train 
them  for  that  happy  place  ?  I  trust  they  will  be  brought  up  in 
the  fear  of  Almighty  God.'  These  were  her  last  words,  ad- 
dressed to  no  one  in  particular." 

"Wall,  wall,  who  could  she  mean  unless  she  meant  me? 
For  my  part,  I  intend  to  look  after  their  welfare  ;  and  then, 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  45 

another  thing,  when  I  see  a  woman  come  into  the  family  with 
soft,  white  hands  like  that  one,  I  like  to  sound  them." 

' '  You  do  not  wish  her  to  think  you  would  make  an  old 
drudge  of  her?  you  planned  more  work  for  her  to  be  done  in  a 
week  than  you  would  ever  do !  The  children  have  been  here  six 
months,  and  you  have  complained  every  day  that  they  were  so 
much  trouble  ;  when  the  most  you  have  done  is  to  prepare 
their  food." 

"Think  what  she's  a  mind  to,  I  don't  care!  One  thing  I 
know:  after  she  gets  to  house-keeping,  I'll  be  just  the  person 
that'll  pay  the  lady  a  visit,  and  see  how  she  treats  them  chil- 
dren— of  course  she'll  abuse  them.  Wall,  there  is  one  thing 
about  it,  and  that  is  this : — what  I  can't  see  way  off  up  here, 
sister  Tattum  can ;  for  Walter  told  me  to-day  he  had  rented 
that  pretty,  white  cottage  on  the  corner  just  across  the  way 
from  her  ;  and  she'll  tell  me  if  anything  goes  wrong  with  that 
woman  and  the  children." 

' '  How  sorry  I  am  that  you  are  so  meddlesome !  you  and 
Mrs.  Tattum  are  off  the  same  piece  ;  and  two-thirds  of  all  the 
rows  kicked  up  in  the  neighborhood  where  she  resides,  have 
been  through  her  instrumentality.  Why  can't  you  stay  at 
home  and  mind  your  own  business  ?  I  wish  you  would  let  that 
busybody  alone." 

"But  it  is  my  bounden,  Christian  duty  to  do  just  as  I  am 
doing ;  and  you,  nor  no  one  else,  has  any  right  to  interfere 
with  a  person  when  they  are  trying  to  do  just  as  they  orto  do. 
Now  if  I  should  neglect  those  little  motherless  children,  which, 
you  know,  would  be  one  of  the  sins  of  omission,  how  could  I 
ever  kneel  with  you  around  the  family  altar?  and  how  would  I 
feel,  when  I  was  reading  out  of  the  Bible  this  express  command- 
ment: 'Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  it  should  go?'  Now,  John, 
let  me  alone ;  let  me  have  my  own  way,  for  duty  I  will  do,  and 
duty  I  must  do,  as  I  expect  to  escape  punishment  at  the  last 
day." 

"Thank  God,  I  do  not  see  mine  as  you  do !  " 


46  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 


CHAPTER   XI. 

After  a  week  spent  here,  it  was  decided  that  Walter  Clayton 
and  his  wife  should  board  through  the  winter,  and  commence 
house-keeping  in  the  spring.  So  they  took  rooms  at  the  resi- 
dence of  their  brother-in-law,  near  his  business,  a  comfortable 
place,  and  always  cheery  on  account  of  its  happy  inmates,  which 
consisted  of  Major  and  Mrs.  Cliffton,  and  a  little  daughter  of 
three  summers. 

All  settled,  Elice  determined,  though  not  happy,  to  make  the 
best  of  circumstances  ;  to  always  wear  a  pleasant  smile;  and, 
under  no  provocation,  to  allow  herself  to  rebel  against  any  of  her 
husband's  wishes;  for,  had  she  not  promised  to  "love  and 
obey?"  And  her  life,  she  thought,  would  be  much  more 
peaceful,  even  though  it  seemed  exacting  and  tyrannical  ;  for 
after  all,  it  might  mean  nothing,  simply  a  pressure  of  business 
and  his  great  care,  that  made  him  sometimes  appear  what  he 
was  not — her  great,  noble,  manly  husband — taciturn  and  sullen; 
and  at  any  cost,  she  would  bring  back  those  smiles  that  had  won 
her  heart. 

But  the  more  she  yielded,  the  more  she  had  to,  until  her 
identity  seemed  likely  to  be  swallowed  up  and  lost  in  his  iron 
will ;  while  he  laid  down  rules,  only  for  the  purpose  of  having 
them  obeyed,  continually  alluding  to  his  first  wife,  telling  with 
much  pathos,  how  she  did  this  or  that ;  how  much  better  way 
it  was  ;  how  industrious  she  had  been  ;  how  useful ;  and,  finally, 
winding  up  by  saying,  "  If  she  had  only  lived,  it  would  have 
been  so  different  with  me  and  the  children !" 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  47 

One  day  he  went  to  *a  desk  and  brought  out  a  gold  locket 
containing  her  miniature.  "  Dear  little  soul  !"  he  exclaimed, 
"  we  never  had  a  word  in  our  lives." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cliffton,  who  were  in  the  adjoining  room,  heard 
every  word  that  he  said. 

("Listen,"  said  she,  '"We  never  had  a  word  in  our  lives? 
Now,  if  they  did  not,  it  was  because  she  would  not  quarrel  with 
him.  But  you  remember,  Cliffton,  when  they  boarded  with  us, 
they  would  sometimes  go  three  days  without  sneaking  to  each 
other  ;  but  I  always  thought  it  was  his  fault — in  fact,  I  knew  it 
was.") 

"  I  always  let  her  do  just  as  she  had  a  mind,  and  never  under- 
took to  dictate  her ;  but  she  had  so  much  more  sense  than  a 
common  woman,"  Walter  continued,  "that  it  was  unneces- 
sary." • 

("  Listen  again,"  said  Mrs.  Cliffton. — "Now  you  mind  the 
terrible  scolding  she  got  when  she  dressed  a  little  different  from 
what  he  told  her,  at  the  time  they  were  invited  to  that  party  at 
Mr.  Simpson's  ?  Although  she  said  she  was  sorry,  and  if  he 
would  wait  a  moment,  she  would  change  to  suit  him,  he  turned 
contemptuously  upon  his  heel,  went  off  in  another  direction, 
and  left  her  at  home  to  weep  over  his  abuse  and  neglect.") 

"I  always  told  her  to  come  to  the  store  whenever  she  wanted 
money  or  anything  else,  and  she  got  it,  if  I  had  it;  and  I  had 
it  you  may  be  sure,  generally." 

("That's  enough,  now,"  said  Mrs.  Cliffton,  vexed  beyond 
measure,  "audit's  a  falsehood  too;  for  she  worked  for  the 
store  for  most  everything  she  got ;  and  he  knows  it  as  well  as 
we  do,  don't  he?") 

"  I  think  he  ought  to,"  replied  Major  Cliffton,  "for  I  knew 
it;  and,  still  further,  that  she  went  beyond  her  strength  trying 
to  do  her  own  work  to  please  him ;  and  lost  her  life  at  last  in 
the  vain  endeavor ;  and  he  never  appreciated  her  until  she  was 
laid  away  in  the  silent  grave ;  and  so  it  will  be  with  this  one,  I 
fear,  for  she  is  altogether  too  good-natured.  I  wish  he'd  got 


48  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

someone  like  old  Ketchum's  wife;  wouldn't  she  make  him 
walk  the  chalk  line,  and  '  no  tripping  either,  Jack  Ketchum '  ?  " 

"  But  he  would  not  live  with  such  a  woman  a  month;  they 
would  quarrel  and  fight,  and  then  separate." 

"No,  they  wouldn't  either.  I  know  him  like  a  book  ;  he's 
like  a  big  hound,  the  more  you  box  him,  the  better  he  is." 

' '  Not  exactly  that  either ;  if  a  woman  would  assert  her 
rights,  and  let  him  know  she  was  determined  to  have  them,  she 
would  be  treated  far  better.  I  do  not  believe  in  being  trodden 
upon :  I  do  not  believe  in  a  tame  submission  to  all  the  despotic 
claims  a  man  may  assert.  Each  has  rights." 

"  And  you  would  fight  for  yours,  wouldn't  you,  pet?  " 

"I  never  had  occasion." 

"  And  if  you  had  ?  " 

"I'd  box  you,  right  and  left,"  she  said,  laughingly — "see 
here;  and  pull  your  ears  just  like  this" — reaching  forth  her  soft 
hands  toward  his  head,  which,  however,  he  caught  and  kissed, 
telling  her  to  be  very  careful  how  she  waged  war  upon  him ; 
for  every  offense  she  would  receive  like  punishment. 

Still  Elice  stitched  away  on  a  dress  for  Blanche ;  she  had  it 
almost  finished ;  she  held  it  up  and  showed  her  husband,  and 
asked  him  if  he  did  not  think  it  was  pretty. 

"It  looks  well  enough,"  he  replied.  "Where  did  you  get 
the  cloth  to  make  it  of?  " 

"But  is  it  not  real  nice,"  said  Elice,  trying  to  smile. 

' '  I  told  you  it  was  well  enough,  for  all  I  know ;  it  is  not  as 
her  own  mother  would  have  made  it,  though.  Now,  if  I  re- 
member, the  child's  dresses  were  all  low  necks  and  short 
sleeves;  and  she  didn't  put  on  so  many  flummydiddles — but 
you  didn't  answer  my  question." 

' '  I  took  the  five  dollars  you  gave  me  and  bought  it ;  dear 
little  Blanche  needed  it  so  badly." 

"Needed  it!  quite  likely  she  did.  Why  didn't  you  ask  me, 
before  you  went  into  this  piece  of  extravagance  ?  Now,  I  gave 
you  that  money  just  for  a  trial.  If  you  knew  enough  to  save 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  49 

it  and  show  it  to  me  again  when  I  asked  you  about  it,  I  would 
have  given  you  as  much  more  sometimes,  perhaps ;  but  all  you 
will  get  out  of  me  in  the  future  will  be  a  caution.  I  want  you 
to  understand  that  my  wife  was  no  such  spendthrift  as  that; 
and  I  always,  as  I  said  before,  gave  her  all  the  money  she 
wanted.  If  there  was  anything  she  needed,  that  our  store 
could  not  supply,  she  would  tell  me  so,  and  I  would  hand  out 
ten  or  twenty  dollars ;  as  I  knew  that  every  cent  would  come 
back  to  me,  to  the  last  penny,  of  what  was  left  after  she  had 
made  her  purchases." 

("Another  falsehood!"  said  Mrs.  Cliffton,  "he  never  gave 
her  twenty  cents  in  her  life  without  a  fuss ;  and  she  was  heart- 
broken over  his  penuriousness  and  dogged  selfishness.  It  does 
excite  me,  when  I  know  Elice  has  been  striving  so  hard  to 
please  him  ;  spent  her  own  money  for  this  garment ;  sewed  on 
it  when  he  was  abed  and  asleep ;  and  then,  to  hear  him  talk  so 
insultingly  to  her  in  reference  to  it.") 


5O  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"Would  you  like  a  ride?"  said  Walter  Clayton,  coming  in 
very  early  one  morning,  and  tapping  his  wife  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Certainly,  nothing  would  please  me  better.  Are  you  going 
immediately?  " 

"  No,  I  have  a  little  business  to  attend  to,  which  will  take  me 
half  an  hour." 

"Well,  that  will  please  me,  as  I  have  one  room  to  adjust, 
and  several  other  matters  to  see  to."  Then  unclasping  a  little 
jeweled  time  piece,  a  gift  of  her  mother,  said  "It's  now  half- 
past  six ;  I  will  be  ready  at  seven  o'clock  sharp — don't  come 
before." 

Fifteen  minutes,  however,  only  passed,  and  Walter  made  his 
appearance. 

"Back  this  soon  ?  "  Elice  said  gaily. 

"Of  course.     Didn't  I  tell  you  to  hurry  up?" 

"  You  know  you  said  half  an  hour  ;  but  give  me  but  a  mo- 
ment longer,  to  attend  to  my  birdies,  and  then  we'll  away." 

Elice  ran,  rather  than  walked ;  but  as  she  had  to  go  to  the 
pump  for  fresh  water  for  her  canaries,  she  was  longer  than  she 
otherwise  would  have  been. 

"Mrs.  Clayton,"  Walter  said  vexatiously,  "you  are  slower 
than  cold  molasses !  Now,  my  other  wife  would  have  been 
ready  long,  and  long  ago ;  she  was  the  spryest  person  I  ever 
saw ;  all  I  would  have  to  say  was,  '  Come,  wife,  do  you  want 
to  go  with  me  ? '  and  she  put  on  her  things  in  a  jiffy  and 
went." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  5  I 

He  had  a  spirited  horse,  and  he  had  tied  it  to  a  small  tree ; 
and  while  he  was  talking  it  tore  up  the  sapling  and  ran  away. 
No  damage  was  done,  however,  only  to  the  tree,  for  he  could 
not  get  far  with  this  cumbrous  weight ;  but  it  proved  of  suffi- 
cient magnitude  to  cause  Walter  to  pour  out  his  invectives  on 
the  horse  and  Elice  in  particular. 

"  This  is  all  your  fault,  Elice,  and  now  you  can  stay  at  home. 
What  made  you  keep  me  waiting  so  everlastingly?"  said  he, 
with  the  most  intense  passion.  ' '  I  never  could  have  believed 
there  was  such  a  difference  in  women  !  Now,  Lola  would  have 
watched  out  of  the  window  every  minute,  after  I  told  her  we 
were  going,  and  the  moment  she  saw  me  drive  up  would  have 
bounded  out  to  meet  me  like  a  deer  ;  she  wouldn't  have  waited 
for  me  to  hitch  up,  I'll  warrant  you  ;  and  then  that  tree 
wouldn't  have  been  ruined,  and — well,  I  wouldn't  have  it  to 
pay  for." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  said  Elice,  "  but  let  us  drop  the  subject 
and  have  our  cozy  little  ride." 

"  If  you  will  promise  never  to  keep  me  waiting." 

' '  Not  for  one  moment,  if  I  can  help  it ;  but  the  half  hour 
you  assigned  me  has  not  even  yet  expired." 

Soon  they  were  on  the  way  to  his  father's.  A  mile  was 
passed  in  perfect  silence.  He  then  broke  forth  by  saying,  "  Do 
you  always  intend  to  be  as  tardy  as  you  were  this  morning, 
Elice  ?  Now,  supposing  the  horse  had  succeeded  in  getting 
away,  had  injured  himself  and  broken  that  elegant,  new  sleigh 
of  ours ;  don't  you  see  what  a  string  of  accidents  we  should 
have  had  ?  and  you  would  have  been  all  to  blame — such  a 
wife !  As  mother  says,  marriage  is  all  a  lottery  ;  nobody 
knows  just  whom  he  is  getting." 

They  were  soon  alighting  at  the  residence  of  old  Mr.  Clay- 
ton. Once  in  and  seated,  Walter  told  the  whole  of  the  morn- 
ing adventures,  laying  the  catastrophe  to  Elice  ;  no  one  respond- 
ing, however,  but  the  old  lady,  who  occasionally  broke  in  with, 
"Dew  tell !  Wasn't  that  awful  ?  You  don't  say  !  La  !  Sus  !" 


52  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

Once  alone,  however,  she  freed  her  mind  about  her  daugh- 
ter-in-law. "  Now,  wasn't  that  a  shame,  father?"  she  said,  "the 
way  that  woman  treated  poor  Walter  ?" 

' '  I  don't  see  that  she  was  at  all  to  blame." 

"  Why  !  why  !  and  keep  him  waiting  an  hour  and  a  half,  when 
he  told  her  to  hurry  up?  and  she  must  know  what  a  frisky, 
wisky  horse  he  has,  by  this  time.  I  declare  to  man,  I  believe 
she  is  as  lazy  as  that  old  cat  yonder  !  But  who  ever  saw  a  girl 
brought  up  like  she,  to  go  to  school  all  the  time,  that  ever  was 
good  for  anything?" 

"What  about  your  own  daughter,  that  is  constantly  in  attend- 
ance at  the  academy?" 

"Wall,  that's  different,  you  know;  you  couldn't  spile  her, 
no  way  you  could  fix  it  up  ;  but  she's  no  common  girl." 

"No,"  he  replied,  "a  mother,  and  a  mother-in-law  are  two  dif- 
ferent and  distinct  people,  also  ;  their  own  children  are  angels — 
others — well — devils.  I  like  Elice  ;  I  always  did  from  the  mo- 
ment I  first  set  eyes  upon  her.  I  took  (and  have  seen  nothing  to 
change  my  mind  since)  her  for  a  rare  woman.  If  Walter  would 
do  anything  near  right,  I  believe  she  would  be  one  of  the  best 
wives  in  existence.  See  how  patient  she  was  under  his  cen- 
sures." 

"But  you  know,  John,  "she  is  nothing  like  the  other." 

"It  is  very  strange  that  death  will  transform  a  person  the  way 
it  did  Lola.  When  she  was  alive,  you  found  as  much  fault  with 
her  as  you  now^do  with  Elice." 

"  Humph!  John,"  exclaimed  the  old  lady  contemptuously, 
and  left  the  room. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  53 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  winter  with  its  days  of  shadows  and  storms  has  passed 
away ;  the  heart  of  Elice  has  grown  wondrous  light  within  a 
few  days,  for  she  has  been  promised  a  visit  to  the  home  of  her 
parents ;  and,  as  she  sits  and  listens  to  the  chirpings  of  the 
birds,  which  tell  how  near  the  summer  is  at  hand  with  all  its 
array  of  light  and  beauty,  she  forgets  the  lack  of  sunshine  in 
the  long,  cheerless  months  that  have  just  passed ;  she  forgets 
everything,  but  the  pleasant,  sunny  home  of  her  girlhood,  the 
faces  of  those  that  have  become  a  thousand  times  more  dear  to 
her  since  her  absence  from  them ;  and  she  looks  forward  to  the 
hour  when  she  will  turn  her  footsteps  thitherward,  with  a  yearn- 
ing she  never  felt  before;  and  she  can  scarcely  wait  for  the 
moment  to  arrive  when  she  may  be  permitted  to  clasp  her  loved 
ones  once  again  to  her  bosom,  and  feel  their  warm  kisses  upon 
her  cheek. 

But  the  time  came  at  last,  and  it  was  decided  that  little 
Blanche  should  bear  her  company.  So  she  started  on  the 
journey  with  her  for  a  sole  companion  ;  but  she  was  not  lonely, 
for  who  would  be  with  such  a  great  pair  of  black  eyes  as  this 
little  darling  possessed,  that  drank  in  all  the  beauty  with  which 
they  came  in  contact,  and  such  a  chatterbox  to  tell  what  she  saw 
and  heard?  She  rehearsed  in  glowing  colors,  her  adventures  of 
the  past  season,  when  she  was  taking  a  trip  with  her  own 
mamma,  and  was  lost  in  the  great  city  of  Rochester,  at  the 
time  of  changing  cars. 


54  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

' '  I  wath  tho  skart ;  and  I  fot  I  never  should  thee  my  mamma 
again  in  my  life  long;  and  I  cried  tho  hard,  and  big  man  athed 
me  who  I  wath,  and  where  I  wath  going ;  and  I  thaith 
to  grandpapa's;  where  doth  you  s'poth  a  little  girl  would 
be  going?  and  my  name  is  Blanche ;  and  I  got  out  of  the 
earths  yonder;  and,  oh,  dear!  that  very  minute  my  dear 
mamma  was  looking  all  over  for  me  ;  and  I  tell  you,  she  got 
right  fast  hold  of  me,  and  kithed  and  kithed  me,  and  then  s'e 
cried.  What  made  s'e  cry?  " 

"For  joy,  I  suppose,"  said  Elice,  "she  was  so  glad  her  dar- 
ling was  not  lost." 

Blanche  than  sat  for  an  hour  without  speaking  ;  after  which 
she  looked  up  angrily,  and  said,  "My  grandmamma  theth  s'e 
speths  you'll  lick  me  like  blazes,  sometimes ;  and  if  you  doth, 
s'e  ith  going  to  tell  my  papa.  Be  you. going  to  do  it?  " 

Elice  answered  her  by  drawing  her  little  lips  to  hers  a  dozen 
times.  "Like  this,  and  this,  and  this,  darling  little  one,"  she 
says.  "Is  that  what  grandmma  meant  ?  " 

"  I  dunno,  only  s'e  said  you  wuth  my  step-muzzer,  and  they 
wuth  awful  hateful ;  and  s'e  told  me  about  one  little  dirly,  what 
had  one  of  zem  fings,  andas'e  shut  her  up  and  spanked  her,  and 
all  for  nossin  at  all.  Be  ye  going  to  shut  me  up?" 

"You  will  not  need  it  little  one ;  you  will  be  so  good,  won't 
you  ?  "  said  Elice. 

"  Not  if  you  stold  me,  nor  lick  me,  I  wont !  "  said  the  little 
thing  with  her  eyes  flashing  wrathful  sparks. 

"  But  if  I  should  buy  you  big  dollies,  and  pretty  picture 
books  like  this?  "  as  she  took  one  from  the  hand  of  the  book 
agent,  who  just  then  happened  to  be  passing. 

"  Wy  zen  I'd  like  you,  and  tiss  you,  and  be  so  nithe  to  you." 

A  lady  attracted  by  the  prattle  of  Blanche,  came  and  took  a 
seat  just  ahead  of  them.  •  She  looked  at  Elice,  and  then  at 
Blanche/her  curiosity  alert  to  find  out  the  relationship  existing 
between  them ;  and  began  to  think  she  might  be  a  little  sister. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  55 

Soon,  however,  hearing  the  child  call  her  mamma,  she  enquired 
if,  indeed  she  was  her  mother. 

"  Do  we  look  alike?" 

' '  Yes,  I  see  a  great  resemblance ;  but  did  not  think  you 
could  be  a  mother,  and  so  young." 

' '  I  am  one  of  those  hateful  creatures  people  call  a  step- 
mother." 

"  Be  assured  of  my  sympathy,  then,  for  I  know  what  it  is. 
You  are  young,  little  girl,  but  don't  let  them  run  over  you. 
Let  them  know,  just  half  the  time,  at  least,  that  you  are 
mistress,  yourself.  We  read  great  books  about  step-mothers 
— their  cruelty  to  poor  little  helpless  children  ;  but  never  a 
word  about  their  vexations.  One  would  think  they  had  noth- 
ing to  do  but  recline  on  a  bed  of  roses.  If  so,  there  are  many 
thorns  to  pierce  their  fingers,  and  tear  the  hands  ;  arrows 
aimed  straight  at  their  hearts — if  they  can  dodge  them,  well 
and  good,  if  not  they  must  submit  with  a  quiet  Christian  grace, 
for  who  ever  had  any  sympathy  for  such  monsters  as  step- 
mothers ?  They  may  be  angels,  they  may  strive  with  all  their 
powers  of  heart  and  mind  to  do  right  and  to  please  all  parties 
concerned,  but  it  would  be  just  as  easy  for  a  '  camel  to  go 
through  the  eye  of  a  needle  ;'  to  remove  a  mountain  and  cast  it 
in  the  midst  of  the  sea.  I  know,  little  one,  and  when  you 
have  had  my  experience,  you  will  know  too ;  but  I  trust  you 
will  not  reap  tares  where  you  expected  to  gather  wheat ;  that 
no  deadly  asp  with  its  venomous  sting  will  coil  among  your 
house  plants.  But  you  have  no  cause,  I  presume,  to  worry, 
for  without  doubt  you  have  a  kind  and  loving  husband,  and  a 
good  mother-in-law." 

Elice  smiled. 

"If  I  can  read  character  from  the  face  of  an  individual,  I 
should  take  you  to  be  one  of  the  mildest  of  children  (excuse 
me  for  the  appellation,  for  you  look  so  childish)  ;  you  might  be 
buffeted,  kicked,  and  cuffed  around,  and  no  one  would  be  any 
the  wiser  for  it ;  you  would  clasp  the  hand  that  smote  you, 


$6  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

and  kiss  the  lips  that  pronounced  their  words  of  vengeance  ; 
but  hours  would  drag  their  weary  lengths  along,  your  sky  would 
grow  darker  day  by  day,  until  the  sun  to  your  childish  heart 
would  have  ceased  shining;  your  eyes  would  have  become 
sunken,  that  pretty  rounded  cheek  lose  its  pink  and  grow  as 
white  as  this  cluster  of  snowdrops  in  my  hand,  but  you  would 
smile  just  the  same,  and,  while  people  were  admiring  your 
cheerful  disposition  and  wondering  you  could  always  be  so 
happy,  your  heart  would  be  breaking.  Finally,  and  not  very 
long  before  the  shroud  and  the  coffin,  the  tuberoses  and  daises 
would  be  substituted  for  the  beautiful  orange  blossoms,  and 
bridal  veil.  Isn't  that  true  ?  " 

Elice  did  not  reply ;  the  picture  was  one  upon  which  she  did 
not  care  to  look. 

The  lady  continued,  —  "We  are  different.  While  I  do  not 
court  the  storm,  I  should  not  mind  it  as  you  would.  You  do 
not  wish  to  hear  my  story?  It  is  too  painful." 

"Yes,  yes;  go  on  !" 

"  As  you  desire.  I  was  younger  yet  than  you  are  when  I 
was  married.  I  idolized  my  husband,  for  I  thought  him  every- 
thing noble  and  good.  He  was  a  widower  with  three  chidren  ; 
had  one  of  the  loveliest  homes  in  the  world,  on  the  banks  of 
the  Hudson  river,  where  we  could  sit,  if  we  chose,  and  see 
the  steamers  glide  over  this  beautiful  stream,  fish,  or  go  sail- 
ing ;  while  we  had  music  of  every  description  in  the  house  to 
help  beguile  the  hours  in  his  absence.  He  was  wealthy — my 
wishes  only  thought  seemed  gratified — never  returning  from 
his  visits  to  the  city  of  New  York,  where  business  so  often 
called  him,  without  bringing  me  costly,  even  extravagant  pres- 
ents. This  man,  Roderick  Augustine,  was  my  first,  my  only 
love;  I  saw  with  his  sight,  his  words  inspired  me,  I  lived  for 
him  and  him  alone,  for  he  was  the  personation  of  my  ideal — 
tall,  handsome,  witty,  social,  genial,  and  so  kind  and  good. to 
me.  You  know  how  bright  the  whole  world  was  to  me,  I 
know  you  do,  for  you  have  felt  the  same  silken  cord  drawing 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  57 

you  closer  and  closer  to  another,  the  same  link  binding  and 
cementing  you,  till  your  whole  being  was  lost  and  swallowed 
up  in  that  of  your  husband ;  so  it  was  with  me.  With  the 
love  of  the  children  and  their  father,  what  more  could  I  desire 
to  make  my  paradise  ?  We  had  a  sail-boat  constructed  pur- 
posely for  ourselves,  and  oh,  so  often,  times  without  number, 
did  we  explore  every  nook  and  crevice  all  along  the  banks  of 
the  river,  bringing  home  the  loveliest  flowers,  stones,  and  shells> 
rare  birds  and  insects,  to  place  with  other  things  in  his  cabinet, 
of  which  he  was  so  fond. 

"And  so  time  winged  on,  for  about  three  years ;  then  some 
acquaintance,  from  maliciousness  caused  from  an  envious  spirit, 
grew  meddlesome,  and  poisoned  the  minds  of  the  children,  set- 
ting them  up  against  me,  until  their  actions  became  almost 
intolerable.  Through  these  it  at  last  extended  to  their  father, 
until  he  at  length  became  cold,  then  morose,  and  did  not  treat 
me  even  civilly ;  but  this  did  not  drive  from  my  breast  the  love 
which  had  so  inspired  me ;  in  consequence  of  which  I  bore 
my  agony  and  grief  for  years,  without  the  slightest  idea  of 
rebelling;  when  one  morning,  after  being  closeted  an  hour 
with  his  mother,  he  came  out  and  struck  me  a  blow  in  the  face, 
which  nearly  stunned  me,  uttering  an  oath  at  the  same  time, 
and  calling  me  hard  names. 

"Stung  to  the  heart,  and  maddened  to  a  degree  I  never  had 
felt  before  in  my  life,  I  rushed  out  of  the  house,  and  in  a  par- 
oxysm of  woe,  resolved  to  throw  myself  into  the  river  and 
end  my  sufferings.  It  was  night — ten  o'clock — oh,  what  a 
lovely  sky !  the  moon  was  at  its  full;  and  the  stream,  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach,  was  but  one  silver  crest  of  beauty.  I  was 
on  the  bank,  just  about  to  take  the  fatal  leap,  when  a  voice,  as 
from  Heaven,  bade  me  stop.  It  was  my  mother's,  my  darling 
mother's ;  there  was  no  mistaking  it ;  an  angel  had  come  to 
deter  me  from  that  fatal  step. 

"  I  had  not  been  here  long,  before  I  heard  footsteps  in  the  dis- 

4 


58  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

tance,  and,  hiding  behind  a  group  of  trees,  I  thought  I  would 
wait  and  see  who  it  was.  As  I  anticipated,  it  was  my  husband 
in  search  of  me.  Becoming  repentant,  I  thought  he  had  come 
to  find  me  to  ask  my  forgiveness  for  his  cruel  treatment — not 
so;  he  spied  me  and  bade  me  go  into  the  house,  at  once.  I 
asked  him  what  I  had  done,  and  why  I  was  so  ill-treated. 
'Enough,'  he  answered. 

"  '  But  I  will  never  step  my  foot  beneath  your  roof,  unless  you 
tell  me  what  is  the  matter,  and  on  your  bended  knees  ask  my 
forgiveness.' 

"'Your  forgiveness,  demon!  one  who  has  been  striving  so 
hard  to  kill  my  children?  ' 

"  '  Kill  your  children !  You  are  certainly  insane !  What  can 
you  mean?' 

"  'I  was  so  informed,'  he  replied. 

"  '  A  base  falsehood  !  '  I  cried  passionately. 

"  'Didn't  you  purchase  arsenic  at  the  drugstore  and  spread  it 
on  bread,  and  lay  down  purposely  for  the  little  girls  to  get  hold 
of?' 

"'Never!  never!     Who  told  you  so?' 

"'I  will  not  tell.' 

'"But  you  shall  tell,  and  you  shall  prove  it!  Husband  or 
devil,  whichever  you  are,  the  law  shall  settle  this  little  slander ! 
Now  tell  me  who  was  your  informant,  for  I  will  not  rest  under 
this  vile  calumny — tell  me,  and  tell  me  instantly.' 

"  Frightened  by  my  manner,  and  fearing  consequences,  he  told 
me  all,  keeping  nothing  back,  but  the  author  of  the  mischief. 

"I  proved  to  him  my  innocence,  but  took  the  next  train 
bound  for  New  York,  where  my  father  resided,  and  have  never 
seen,  or  heard  of  the  family  since. 

"  Thus  ended  my  dream  of  happiness;  thus,  quickly,  turned 
my  cup  of  joy  into  wormwood  and  gall.  The  world  is  all 
changed  since  then  ;  and  oh,  how  changed  !  But  don't  mind  this 
little  bit  of  my  life's  history.  Do  not  let  it  worry  you,  for  yours 
will  be  different.  Do  not  look  so  disconsolate,  for  you  will  have 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  5 

no  such  bitter  experience.  Forgive  me,  if  my  tale  of  sorrow 
casts  a  shadow  over  your  young  heart,  for  it  was  not  intended. 
But  I  could  not  help  speaking ;  I  could  not  refrain  telling  it, 
when  I  saw  you  with  that  child,  and  found  that,  like  me,  you 
were  a  step-mother." 

By  this  time  the  train  had  reached  the  depot  at  Rockville,  and 
the  passengers  had  commenced  to  alight ;  and,  after  bidding  the 
strange  lady  adieu,  Elice  and  little  Blanche  started  for  the  hotel, 
to  await  the  early  morning  train  bound  for  Woodville  ;  and  as 
Elice  laid  her  head  on  the  pillow,  she  felt  a  strange  restlessness, 
still  a  happy  consciousness  that  only  a  few  miles  were  to  be 
travelled,  before  she  should  behold  the  ones  that  now,  of  all  the 
world,  she  held  most  dear.  But  when  she  did,  she  was  roaming 
over  the  fair  woodland  and  bright  meadows,  or  holding  sweet 
converse  with  her  darlings  in  that  bright  and  cheery  home 
whither  she  was  bound. 

Morning  came — it  was  so  long  in  coming,  she  thought.  Sev- 
eral times  she  had  mistaken  the  straggling  moonbeams  that 
quivered  through  the  shutters,  for  the  dawning  of  daylight,  and 
had  arisen  to  find  herself  mistaken  ;  but  now  it  was  surely  here. 
The  porter  had  given  the  signal  to  make  ready  for  the  depart- 
ure, and  not  an  hour  would  elapse  before  she  would  be  on  her 
way. 

Joy  !  joy !  Was  anyone  ever  so  happy  before  ?  the  bright 
present  shut  out  all  the  gloom  of  the  past. 

But  the  time  passed  in  rosy  anticipation,  and  found  Elice  and 
her  little  charge  seated  in  the  cars  ready  to  make  the  last  point 
in  their  home-bound  trip. 

On,  on,  sped  the  iron  horse  which  soon  brought  them  to 
Woodville. 

"Just  as  I  expected,  darling,"  said  Elice,  kissing  Blanche 
again,  scarcely  knowing  what  she  did,  "papa  is  coming  for  us 
with  my  own  pet  pony  and  the  phaeton — dear,  dear  papa !  " 

"Where,  mamma?"  said  Blanche;  but  ere  she  could  reply, 
they  had  alighted  from  the  cars,  and  were  folded  in  the  em- 


6O  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

brace  of  her  dear  father,  Mr.  Woodville ;  and  as  they  drove 
away  to  their  home,  it  was  hard  to  tell  which  of  the  party  was 
the  happiest,  he,  Blanche,  or  Elice.  Mrs.  Woodville  was  at 
the  gate  with  arms  open  wide  to  receive  them.  Elice,  on 
seeing  her  in  the  distance,  began  to  hum  "The  Beautiful  Gates 
Ajar ;"  when  Blanche,  with  her  sweet  voice,  chimed  in. 

"Oh  mamma!  mamma  !  "  she  cried,  on  alighting  and  throwing 
her  arms  about  her  neck,  "the  gates  are  indeed  passed,  and 
Heaven  is  won ;  would  that  it  were  forever  and  ever." 

Each  wept  and  laughed  alternately,  their  rapture  was  so 
intense.  When  Mrs.  Woodville  could  sufficiently  command 
her  voice  to  speak,  she  said,  "Thank  God!  thank  God  for  this 
blessed  moment!  I  did  not  know  I  should  ever  miss  you  so 
much,  my  darling ;  it  seemed  as  though  you  had  been  gone 
for  years,  and  would  never  come  back  to  us ;  but  here  you  are, 
the  same  Elice  as  ever,  only  paler  and  thinner.  Are  you  not 
well?" 

"  Certainly  I  am." 

"And  happy?" 

"Most  assuredly,"  replied  Elice,  determined  that  a  knowl- 
edge of  her  troubles  should  not  come  to  the  ears  of  her  parents 
to  mar  their  happiness  in  their  declining  years ;  praying  that 
the  canker  worm  that  was  sapping  the  life  from  her  young 
heart  should  never  be  revealed  to  them. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  6 1 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A  few  weeks  of  uninterrupted  pleasure  have  passed  ;  Elice 
returns  again  to  Lavarre. 

As  the  elder  Mrs.  Clayton  had  remarked  to  her  husband, 
Walter  had  rented  a  house  across  from  the  Tattums.  Elice 
was  sorry  for  this ;  for,  from  what  she  had  herself  seen,  and 
still  more  from  the  gratuitous  information  of  the  old  lady,  she 
had  not  formed  the  best  opinion  of. them;  but  still  she  said 
nothing,  as  fault-finding  made  up  no  part  of  her  nature ;  and, 
when  the  household  goods  arrived,  she  commenced  arranging 
them  with  all  possible  speed,  turning  this  bit  of  soiled  carpet 
and  that,  so  all  might  appear  at  its  best,  and  revarnishing  each 
separate  piece  of  furniture,  while  everything  brightened  as  if  by 
magic.  Then  the  beds  and  bedding  must  be  renovated  ;  the 
curtains  hung  and  draped ;  the  unpainted  pantry  and  kitchen 
floors  scoured  until  they  were  white  as  snow. 

Once  finished,  Elice  took  a  survey  of  her  work,  and  although 
everything  was  of  the  cheapest  material,  she  had  the  satiefaction 
of  knowing  that  the  whole  house  was  clean  and  neat ;  and  yet, 
there  were  several  rooms  for  which  there  were  no  carpets  ;  but 
she  thought  her  husband  would  attend  to  this  upon  his  return 
from  his  business  journey  to  Philadelphia. 

"  He  will  be  pleased  when  he  sees  how  nicely  I  have  every- 
thing arranged ;  even  his  first  wife  or  mother  could  have  done 
no  better." 

He  came  at  last,  and  she  met  him  at  the  door  with  a  kiss — 
her  usual  custom. 


62  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

"Don't  you  see  papa,  what  we  have  been  doing?  isn't  it 
nice?"  and  taking  hold  of  his  arm,  said,  "Come,  let  me  take 
you  over  our  cozy  little  house." 

He  shook  her  off,  and  gruffly  said,  "  Can't  you  let  a  person 
alone,  when  they  are  tired  and  hungry  ?  I  can  see  from  here. 
Is  supper  ready?" 

"  No,"  said  Elice,  "it  is  not  yet  time  by  a  whole  hour  and  a 
half." 

"Not  ready  !  you  knew  I'd  be  hungry!  " 

"How  should  I  know  that?" 

"Oh,  you  don't,  of  course,  but  Lola  would,  mighty  quick." 

"Not  unless  you  told  her." 

' '  Know !  know !     Why  she  knew  everything  without  telling !" 

"Doubtless.  But  be  a  little  patient,  and  we  will  have  your 
tea  in  less  time  than  we  have  been  talking  about  it." 

"Hurry  up,  then;  don't  be  fooling  around  here!  I  wish  you 
weren't  so  slow!" 

"I  never  was  called  that,"  said  Elice." 

"  For  you  never  did  anything  in  your  life,  I  suppose." 

Elice  did  not  reply.  Another  arrow  had  been  sent;  she  felt 
its  sting,  and  laid  her  hand  upon  her  wounded  heart.  All 
night  long  she  tossed  her  restless  head  upon  the  pillow. 

"If  I  could  only  be  appreciated,"  she  thought.  "Must  I 
drag  out  this  miserable  existence?  Are  all  my  beautiful  vis- 
ions to  vanish?  Would  that  I  could  die!" 

In  the  morning  her  cheeks  were  flushed,  her  lips  red  and 
swollen ;  she  had  a  burning  fever.  Her  husband  did  not  know 
of  her  illness,  as  he  left  his  bed  when  he  found  she  was  so  rest- 
less, declaring  he  could  not  sleep  a  wink,  wishing  she  would  lie 
still  and  not  disturb  him.  So  she  told  him  nothing  of  her  ter- 
rible headache,  lest  he  should  be  more  angry  than  ever. 

Business  called  him  out  of  town  that  day,  and  when  he  re- 
turned she  was  delirious.  All  the  long  day  she  had  been  utter- 
ing incoherent  sentences ;  sometimes  hurrying  to  have  all  the 
work  done  up  so  nicely  before  papa  returned;  again,  scouring 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  63 

the  tin,  wondering  if  it  would  ever  be  bright;  then  mending 
the  carpet ;  but  all  the  time  so  fearful  she  would  not  be  in 
readiness  to  receive  her  husband. 

"All  done  at  last!  "  she  murmured;  "and  now  we  will  make 
some  nice  cake — some  of  those  tarts,  you  know,  he  likes  so 
well,  Bridget. ' 

"What  does  she  mean?"  said  Mrs.  Clayton,  who,  with  her 
daughter,  Mrs.  Cliffton,  had  just  called. 

"She  means,  mum,"  said  Bridget,  crisply,  who  had  watched 
over  her  all  day,  "that  she  has  worrikt  so  haird,  and  been  so 
ill  trated  she  got  sick.  If  it  had  been  me  that  had  jist  sich  a 
mon,  I  would  have  broak  his  back  bone.  Why,  afther  we  ware 
all  through,  mum,  and  the  poor  little  dair  wus  jist  as  tired  as 
could  be,  she  wanted  him,  whin  he  came  home,  to  go  over  the 
house,  and  see  jist  how  nice  we  had  got  things ;  and,  troth,  he 
wouldn't  do  it ;  and  ordered  her  to  go  and  get  supper  for  him, 
en  I  dun  know  what  all,  mum  !  Fath,  he  may  be  your  son,  but 
if  he  ware  mine! "  and  she  clenched  her  fists  with  rage. 

Mrs.  Ashton,  another  lady,  called ;  said  she  had  heard  of  the 
illness  of  Mrs.  Clayton,  and  had  come  to  see  how  it  was. 

' '  Quite  sick, "  said  the  mother-in-law.  "  The  truth  is,  she 
has  taken  a  severe  cold ;  and  her  health  hain't  no  time  none  the 
best ;  she's  a  poor,  sickly  creetur,  anyway,  to  make  the  best 
on't. " 

"Sickly  crathur,  mum!"  said  Bridget,  "and  is  that  what  yer 
afthur  calling  the  mistress?  And  its  yerself  would  be  sickly, 
if  ye'd  worrikt  so  haird  as  she  for  the  past  thray  wakes.  Ivry 
thing  out  of  rig,  mum  ;  the  children,  bless  their  little  souls,  had 
to  be  looked  afther;  their  clothes  to  wash  and  mend;  the  house 
to  rid  up  from  top  till  the  bottom ;  and  what,  mum,  was  wust 
of  all,  the  masther  was  so  cross ;  and  the  poor  thing  not  been 
used  to  the  likes,  it  hurtted  her,  I'm  sure,  thin.  So,  fath,  whin 
she  was  so  used  up  like,  afthur  puttin'  to  right  thim  old  fixins 
of  hisn  any  dacent  mon  would  a'  pitched  into  the  street,  she 
got  sick." 


64  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

The  old  lady  strove  hard  to  deter  Mrs.  Ashton  from  entering 
the  room  where  Elice  lay;  but,  the  door  being  slightly  open, 
she  caught  sight  of  her,  and  begged  her  to  come  in.  As  Mrs. 
Ashton  entered  she  cried,  "O,  mamma!  mamma!  I'm  so  glad 
you  have  come.  Why  did  you  wait  so  long  ?  dearest,  sweetest 
mamma!  Come,  lay  your  hand  upon  my  head  just  as  you 
used  to  do,  and  kiss  away  my  tears.  Don't  you  see  how  I  have 
been  weeping  1  Not  one  of  them  love -me,  and  I  tried  so  hard 
to  please  them  ;  but  it's  no  use,  at  all.  Take  me  home  again, 
oh,  won't  you?" 

Mrs.  Ashton  smoothed  her  hair  caressingly,  and  kissed  her 
fevered  brow,  and  thus  she  soothed  her. 

"Have  the  birds  built- their  nests  under  my  window  yet, 
mamma?  Oh,  they  have !  they  have!  I  hear  them  singing  so 
sweetly.  Why,  yes,  we're  home  ;  I'm  so  glad  !  Do  not  let  me 
go  away  again,  will  you,  mamma?" 

By  this  time  Walter  had  finished  his  supper,  and  waited  to 
smoke  his  pipe,  as  usual,  after  meals ;  he  then  repaired  to  his 
wife's  room,  to  see  what  all  the  ado  was  about. 

Finding  Mrs.  Ashton  there,  he  assumed  a  look  of  anxiety; 
and,  approaching  the  bedside,  attempted  to  take  his  wife's 
hand  ;  but  she  drew  it  away,  and,  uttering  a  faint  scream,  asked 
if  he  had  come  to  take  her  away  again. 

"Why,  Elice,"  said  he,  "don't  you  know  me?"  She 
pressed  her  hand  to  her  head  and  answered,  "I  believe  so — 
yes,  I  do.  You  came  into  my  garden  and  robbed  me  of  all 
my  flowers.  Why! — why!" — and,  quivering  from  head  to 
foot — "you  set  me  in  a  scorpion's  nest.  When  you  told  me 
you  loved  me  so  much,  you  said  I  was  your  idol,  didn't  he, 
mamma?  But  you  won't  let  him  take  me  away  again!  " 

When  he  found  he  could  not  pacify  her,  he  hastily  said, 
"She  must  be  kept  quiet;  we  had  better  go  out  of  the  room." 

"No,  no,  mamma,  stay  with  me!"  she  piteously  cried. 

"I  will  stay  with  her  all  night;  she  is  very  ill,  and  needs  the 
strictest  care." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  65 

• 

"Thank  you,"  said  her  husband,  "but  we  will  not  trouble 
you;  I  will  watch  by  her  myself,' ' — wishing  her  to  believe  him 
so  tender  and  true. 

" No  trouble,  I  assure  you;  I  can  soothe  her,  and  that  is 
what  she  needs." 

"Now  the  fact  is,"  said  Walter,  "  Elice  is  not  strong — she 
never  was ;  now  it's  a  bad  thing  for  a  man  circumstanced  as  I 
was,  to  marry  a  sickly  woman." 

"  I  believe  her  work  had  something  to  do  with 'her  sickness; 
for  I  was  at  your  house  several  times,  and  she  was  hurrying  as 
fast  as  she  could  to  get  everything  arranged.  She  seemed  to  be 
very  well  then;  but  extremely  fatigued." 

"There  was  no  need  of  that;  she  had  a  servant" 

"  But  one  servant  cannot  do  everything.  At  such  a  time, 
Mr.  Clayton,  there  is  no  end  of  work.  She  is  far  too  ambitious ; 
the  whole  cause  of  her  illness  is  overtaxation  of  both  mind  and 
body." 

' '  She  has  no  need  of  any  trouble  or  worry,  as  you  well 
know,  Mrs.  Ashton." 

"  I  hope  not,"  she  answered,  with  the  slightest  smile  of  scorn 
curling  her  honest  lips. 

"  I  know  she  has  not!  " 

"  You  know  best.  If  you  have  not  always  done  right,  pour 
on  the  healing  balm  from  to-night." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  said  he  angrily. 

"  Oh,  nothing ;  the  whole  thing  rests  now  between  your 
conscience  and  your  God.  But  I  will  stay  to-night,"  she  said, 
laying  aside  her  bonnet  and  shawl ;  "  I  am  used  to  the  sick 
room." 

All  night  long  she  sat  by  the  bedside  of  Elice  and  gave  her 
medicine.  In  the  morning  she  recognized  her  and  was  so  happy 
that  she  was  with  her. 

"  I  must  have  been  dreaming,"  Elice  said  in  a  whisper,  "or 
has  my  mother  been  here  ?" 

"  No,  Mrs.  Clayton,  do  you  wish  to  see  her?" 


66  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  replied;  "my  sweet,  sweet  mamma!"  while 
the  tears  sprang  to  her  eyes  and  rolled  down  her  face,  which 
was  now  pale  as  death. 

"  You  see,  Mrs.  Ashton,"  she  said  in  a  whisper,  "  I  worked 
so  hard  and  had  none  of  the  best  of  treatment,  and  so  I  got 
sick.  Oh,  dear,  I  didn't  mean  to  tell  it ;  I  never  do  say  any- 
thing;  but  it's  out  now,  and  I  cannot  help  it." 

"How  is  Elice  this  morning?"  said  the  old  lady  coming  in 
with  one  of  her  most  hypocritical  smiles. 

"A  little  better,"  said  Mrs.  Ashton;  "but  she  must  be 
kept  very  quiet.  You  had  better  take  the  children  home  with 
you,  as  their  noise  will  disturb  her." 

"Wall,  certainly — poor  child  !  I  am  so  sorry  for  her!  Do 
you  think  she  will  get  well?  Isn't  it  a  pity  she  is  so  sickly  like?" 

"  It  is  really  a  shame  she  has  had  so  much  to  worry  about," 
said  Mrs.  Ashton. 

"Oh,  she's  had  nothing  to  fret  her.  Don't  you  see  how 
well  she  has  been  provided  for  ? — the  hull  house  carpeted  from 
head  to  foot.  Walter  is  such  a  liberal,  hull-souled  fellow ; 
there  never  was  nothin'  too  good  for  his  wives  ;  it's  a  lucky 
woman  that  got  my  son,  I  tell  you,  now." 

It  was  neither  the  time  nor  place  to  discuss  the  matter ;  but 
Mrs.  Ashton  resolved  she  would  have  a  talk  with  both  mother 
and  son  some  time — not  that  she  wished  to  interfere,  but  for 
the  sake  of  Elice  who,  she  knew,  had  been  downtrodden  ever 
since  she  came  into  the  family. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  67 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Six  months  have  passed.  The  honeysuckles  and  wild  briars 
that  shade  the  windows  of  the  sick  room  are  putting  forth  their 
buds  and  blossoms ;  the  bright  scarlet  geraniums  and  fragrant 
heliotropes  are  bending  and  bowing  with  the  delightful  breezes 
of  a  June  morning,  while  the  dew  is  yet  upon  the  grass.  Elice 
is  well  again,  and  her  heart  goes  out  in  thankfulness  to  the 
great  God  above  for  all  his  tenderness  and  watchful  care  of 
her,  through  the  long  weary  days  and  weeks  that  she  has  been 
obliged  to  stay  within  doors. 

Early  in  the  spring  she  had  visited  the  grave  of  Lola,  and 
for  the  interest  she  felt  in  that  child  wife  who  died  while  yet  in 
her  teens,  she  had  covered  her  tomb  with  pure  white  daisies, 
and  planted  lovely  roses  at  her  head  and  feet ;  and  then  each 
morning,  until  she  was  taken  ill,  had  either  gone  forth  at  an 
early  hour,  or  sent  some  one  to  water  them.  And  her  heart 
went  out  to  this  beautiful  spot,  wondering  if  the  grass  were 
not  choking  out  all  those  flowers,  and  if  they  were  not  already 
dead  for  want  of  attention.  So  she  thought  she  would  take 
the  children  by  the  hand  and  go  to  the  cemetery,  and  show 
them  the  grave  of  their  darling  mother,  who,  had  she  lived, 
would  have  loved  them  more  sincerely  than  any  other  person, 
no  matter  how  strong  her  depth  of  affection ;  for  she  wished 
them  to  cherish  a  remembrance  of  one  who  had  watched  over 
their  early  infancy ;  who  had  sung  for  them  the  lullaby,  and 
soothed  all  their  little  troubles  on  her  loving  breast.  She 


68  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

wished  them  to  imitate  the  example  of  one  whom,  though 
never  knowing  in  person,  she  believed,  from  all  she  heard,  to 
have  been  one  of  Christ's  loving  chosen  followers,  and  who  now 
was  wearing  a  crown  of  rejoicing  at  His  right  hand. 

They  entered  the  cemetery  and  wound  their  way  to  the  trees 
overshadowing  her  tomb,  and  sat  down  to  rest.  As  had  been 
anticipated,  the  grass  was  growing  rank  among  the  flowers,  and 
they  were  parched  and  withering  under  the  strong  rays  of  the 
summer  sun.  After  a  few  moments  Elice  brought  water  from 
a  crystal  spring  that  bubbled  near,  and  sprinkled  them ;  then, 
with  the  help  of  the  little  ones,  pulled  out  every  blade  of  grass 
from  among  the  mosses  and  daisies,  after  which  they  all  seated 
themselves  once  more  near  the  grave  to  talk  of  the  loved  one 
that  lay  beneath  the  sod;  the  children,  to  hear  more  of  "the 
bye  and  bye,"  and  how  they  might  live  to  meet  their  mother 
at  the  breaking  of  morning  into  beautiful  dawn,  beyond  the 
river  of  death,  when  the  night  is  past.  She  told  them  of  the 
Heavenly  City — the  new  Jerusalem — whose  streets  were  paved 
with  gold ;  of  the  blessed  Jesus  who  had  died  for  them  ;  and  in 
the  simplest  manner  possible,  the  story  of  the  cross  on  Cal- 
vary's rugged  mountain ;  and  while  Blanche  seemed  to  under- 
stand, the  boy,  who  was  too  young  to  know  all  she  said,  was 
just  as  earnest  a  listener. 

"  Up  there,  mamma  ?  Is  that  where  Heaven  is,  among  the 
tlouds?  Ith  my  other  mamma  up  there,  and  the  Thaviour  too ; 
and  dothe  He  love  all  the  little  childrun,  and  bruver  Charlie, 
too  ?"  said  Blanche. 

Elice  answered  that  he  did,  and  told  her  how  He  was  once 
here  upon  earth,  and  laid  His  hands  upon  the  heads  of  little 
boys  and  girls  and  blessed  them. 

"  And  how  will  we  get  there,  mamma?  Will  papa  take  us 
with  a  horse  and  tarriage  ;  and  will  dolly  horse  go  too ;  and  all 
these  big  birdies  and  little  birdies,  too?" 

"  Buddies,"  lisped  baby  Charlie,  while  he  rolled  his  great, 
black  eyes  toward  the  trees,  where  the  robins  were  flitting  from 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  69 

limb  to  limb,  and  piping  forth  their  plaintive  notes,  as  if  singing 
a  requiem  for  the  departed,  and  sharing  with  the  little  group 
their  sorrow. 

"  Mamma  cannot  tell  you,  love,  of  all  the  beauties  up 
yonder."  "'For  eye  hath  not  seen  nor  ear  heard,"  '  she  added 
to  herself.  '"In  this  world  ye  shall  have  tribulation,  but  in  me 
ye  shall  have  peace.'  Oh,  the  bright,  bright  beyond!  how 
well  we  can  bear  all  our  affliction  here,  if  it  only  helps  to  give 
us  an  entrance  into  Heaven,  where  Jesus  is ;  our  dear,  dear 
Saviour  who  gave  himself  a  ransom  for  all  the  world!" 

After  another  long,  sad  look  at  the  grave  of  Lola,  they 
turned  their  footsteps  homeward. 

"  Bathes,  mamma,  'fore  do  !  "  lisped  the  baby. 

"Yes,  sweet,"  said  Elice,  breaking  a  few  from  their  stems, 
and  placing  them  in  his  hand. 

"  Now  dint,  mamma." 

Elice  went  to  ihe  spring,  and  got  him  water,  and,  smiling — 
"What  next,  pet?" 

"  Buddies — tat  home  wid  me." 

"  But  we  cannot  catch  them." 

"  Me  tan,"  he  lisped,  and,  breaking  loose  from  her  hand, 
ran  toward  a  bush,  where  one  had  alighted — "Oh,  dear!  dot 
way !  " — when  he  commenced  to  cry. 

His  tears  were  soon  dried,  however,  for  he  had  the  promise 
of  a  picture  book,  a  doll,  and  a  lot  of  pretty  toys ;  while 
Blanche  assured  him  that  he  should  have  the  first  bird  she  could 
get  anywhere,  to  put  in  his  little  gilded  cage. 

Baby's  eyes  sparkled — "  Won't  that  be  nithe?  "  said  Blanche. 

"  Et,"  he  replied,  holding  up  his  ripe,  rosy  lips  to  kiss  her. 

All  that  night  Blanche  was  dreaming;  but  she  verily  believed 
the  little  story  to  be  true,  that  she  told  on  the  following 
morning. 

"  I  thaw  thuch  lots  of  anthels — oh,  they  were  tho  butiful ! 
and  the  blethed Thaviour,  and  my  thweet,  thweet  other  mamma! 
S'e  took  me  in  her  armths,  and  asthed  me  if  I  did  not  want  to 


7O  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

go  wis  her.  And  we  all  that  down  by  a  great,  big,  bright  river, 
where  I  tood  thee  over  into  Heaven — I  dess — that's  what  my 
mamma  thed  it  was ;  and  I  heard  musit — oh,  thuch  a  big,  big, 
band !  and  they  were  all  dresthed  in  white ;  and  birdies  and 
flowers,  more  than  I  ever  thaw  before  in  my  life ;  and  Jethus 
thed,  '  Be  a  dood  little  dirlie,  and  thumtime  I  will  take  you  over 
there,  and  you  thall  have  a  dolden  harp  like  thothe  bright 
thpirits  you  thee  yonder.'  Will  he  turn  for  me?  He  thed  he 
would ;  but  I  want  you  to  go  too,  mamma,  and  baby  Charlie, 
or  elth  I  rather  stay  here  alwayths." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  /I 


CHARTER  XVI. 

"There  are  so  many  things  we  need,"  said  Elice  to  her  hus- 
band, "to  make  us  comfortable  and  respectable.  I  have  re- 
paired the  children's  old  clofches  until  I  can  do  it  no  longer. 
They  need  hats  and  wraps,  shoes  and  stockings,  in  fact,  every- 
thing that  constitutes  their  wardrobe." 

"  I  presume  so.  Always  wanting  something.  I  never  saw 
just  such  a  woman  as  you  are.  Some  folks  need  so  much  more 
than  others,  and  you,  Elice,  are- just  one  of  that  sort;  now  my 
first  wife  seldom  asked  me  for  anything — was  one  of  the  most 
economical  women  I  ever  saw,  and  could  make  cloth  or  grocer- 
ies go  the  farthest  of  any  one  in  the  world,  I  believe." 

"  What  would  she  do,  if,  as  in  this  instance,  the  children's 
clothes  had  given  entirely  out,  and  they  were  hatless  and  shoe- 
less ?" 

"Why!  why!  she  would  mend  them,  and  keep  mending 
them  and  no  one  would  ever  know  where  the  patch  was  put  on, 
she  was  so  neat  about  it ;  made  all  their  shoes,  and  her  own 
sometimes ;  although  I  told  her  she  need  not  and  should  not, 
for  I  much  preferred  to  buy  them,  than  have  her  work  so  hard. 
Why  !  why !  I  always  got  her  everything  she  asked  for,  and 
more  too.  I  tell  you  she  was  a  great  wife  to  me.  If  she  only 
had  lived." 

"  But  you  say  she  never  wanted  anything  at  one  time,  and 
then  at  another  you  got  her  everything  she  desired.  Now  it 
seems  strange  that  a  young  person  like  Lola,  with  all  the  hopes 


72  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

and  aspirations  of  a  mother,  would  not  want  to  see  her  darlings 
neatly  clothed." 

"  Can't  you  understand,  she  scarcely  ever  asked  me  for  any- 
thing— wasn't  eternally  and  everlastingly  dunning  me,  day  and 
night,  for  everything  she  saw.  It  would  take  an  independent 
fortune  to  keep  you  in  what  you  wanted.  I'll  tell  you  just  how 
she  did  get  the  most  of  her  things — industrious  little  body — 
sewed  for  our  store  ;  for  she  said  she  rather  do  it  than  to  take 
that  much  out  of  the  business  ;  and  then — dear  little  economical 
creature — kept  every  penny  of  her  hard  earnings  ;  I  verily  be- 
lieve she  was  more  saving  than  myself,  and  when  I  went  off  to 
buy  my  goods,  would  say,  "  Here  now,  Walter,  is  my  money  ; 
take  it  and  get  so  and  so,  and  so  an^  so — I  can't  tell  all  what — 
for  the  children  and  me.  I'd  never  spend  any  of  it  for  myself, 
do  you  suppose  I  would?  Why,  no  !  but  have  often  put  as  much 
as  a  dollar  or  so  with  it  and  surprised  her  by  bringing  home 
more  than  she  expected.  Let  me  tell  you  a  little  incident  that 
occurred,  for  it  may  do  you  good.  One  time  after  I  got  to  the 
city,  I  thought  I  would  get  a  nice  present  for  her,  she  had  toiled 
so  Hard,  been  such  a  good  little  wife,  done  without  a  hired  girl, 
and  had  work-hands  into  the  bargain  ;  and  so  1  got  her  one  of 
the  prettiest  dress-patterns  I  could  find  at  all.  Well,  I  thought 
she  would  go  off  in  ecstasies,  as  I  had  not  purchased  anything 
for  her  in  a  long,  long  time,  but  she  said,  '  Papa,  put  it  in  the 
store  and  sell  it;  the  money  will  help  you  along  so  much;  I 
can  do  with  a  cheaper  one.  Now  what  do  you  think  of  that  ? 
Don't  you  feel  ashamed  of  yourself  when  you  see  how  far  you 
come  behind  her  in  almost  everything?" 

"Oh!  wouldn't  it  be  nice  if,  like  the  sheep,  our  wardrobe 
grew  upon  our  backs,  then  it  would  not  cost  anything?" 

"You'd  manage  somehow,  then,  to  get  rid  of  money,  always 
spending,  but  never  earning  a  cent. " 

"What  would  you  have  me  do?  I  would  gladly  toil  from 
morning  till  night,  if  I  knew  just  what  avocation  you  wished 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  73 

me  to  follow,  if  you  think  I  have  not  enough  to  do  to  take  care 
of  the  house  and  children;  shall  I  take  in  washing?" 

"  You  could  at  least  do  your  own  work.  Lola  never  kept  a 
servant,  nor  ever  hired  any  of  her  sewing  done — dear,  dear,  if 
she  had  only  lived  !  How  different,  oh  !  how  different  it  would 
be  with  me  now." 

"  What  could  she  have  done  better  than  I  do  ?  Now,  Wal- 
ter, if  I  err  in  judgment,  please  inform  me  of  my  error,  and  I 
will  correct  it  if  I  can — I  do  not  doubt  that  Lola  was  a  good 
woman,  and  made  you  one  of  the  best  of  wives,  but  certainly 
she  never  tried  harder  than  myself  to  please  you.  But  just 
turn  your  thoughts  back  to  the  time  when  she  lived,  and  see  if 
you  were  not  as  hard  to  suit  as  at  the  present.  The  grave, 
you  know,  covers  a  multitude  of  faults,  and  I  am  glad  it  does, 
for  I  should  grieve  to  hear  that  dear  one  censured  whose  lowly 
head  now  rests  beneath  the  sod,  and  who  could  not  come  forth 
if  she  would  to  speak  in  her  own  defense — no,  talk  to  me  as 
you  will,  but  never  breathe  one  defamatory  breath  of  her  who 
sleeps  in  the  silent  city  of  the  dead." 

Overcome  by  her  feelings  she  left  him  and  went  to  her  room 
— but  adding  to  herself,  "Where,  oh,  where  I  would  fain  fol- 
low were  it  the  will  of  my  Heavenly  Father,  for  Walter  makes 
me  so  miserable.  He  strews  my  way  with  thorns  which  pierce 
my  heart  each  day,  and  casts  a  blot  upon  my  otherwise  happy 
existence.  Pretty  birds,  how  I  envy  you,  free  from  care ;  sing 
on  in  your  glad  joyous  strains  and  be  merry,  while  my  poor 
heart  is  breaking — it  cannot  be  otherwise.  Only  in  Heaven  can 
I  find  rest  to  my  soul.  Beautiful  sunset !  once  you  gladdened 
me  with  your  brightness  ;  the  glorious  halo  that  surrounds  you, 
the  soft  fleecy  clouds,  were  a  thing  of  joy ;  were  there  a  black 
one,  it  had  a  silvery  lining ;  but  alas  !  alas !  there  is  no  help 
only  in  death.  Blessed  God,  let  me  be  faithful  to  Thee,  and  at 
last — oh  !  at  last,  I  shall  have  that  peace  of  which  I  am  here  de- 
nied ;  a  sweet  rest  at  Thy  right  hand  in  Thy  kingdom." 
5 


74  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

Morning  came,  and  she  resolved  to  muster  courage  to  assail 
the  "lion  in  his  den" — she  would  go  to  the  store  and  see  what 
could  be  done.  So  kissing  each  of  the  children  a  good  by,  she 
said,  while  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks,  "  You  are  his  own  bairns, 
and  it's  strange  he  would  not  dress  you  like  princes ;  mamma 
is  going  to  get  you  some  pretty  things,  so  you  stay  with  Bridget 
until  she  returns,  and  be  good  little  darlings — will  you  ?  " 

"Yeth,"  answered  Blanche,  clasping  her  arms  around  her 
neck,  "but  you  wont  be  don  Ion?  " 

"  Eth,"  echoed  baby  Charlie,   "  tiss  ou  too." 

"  What  do  you  want  Elice  ?  "  said  her  husband  after  she  had 
entered  his  store  and  stood  before  him  trembling  like  a  culprit. 

"  You  know  of  what  we  were  talking  yesterday.  I  thought 
I  would  fix  up  the  children  for  the  Sabbath  School  and  church." 

"Well,  well,  the  babies  must  be  dressed  ;  if  you  see  anything 
at  all,  you  want  for  you  or  them,  get  it  of  course. "  Then  he 
turned  to  a  bystander  with  the  remark  that  he  didn't  want  his 
family  to  be  at  all  behind  the  times  in  dress,  for  he  was  able  to 
give  them  everything  for  their 'comfort,  and  his  money  was 
always  free  as  water,  as  far  as  they  were  concerned. 

"  What  a  good  man,"  said  a  little  boy,  "  how  I  wish  I  had 
such  a  papa." 

"And  I,"  remarked  another,  "and  then  I  could  have  so 
many  nice  things." 

"  He  is  not  as  liberal  as  he  pretends,"  said  Mr.  St.  John,  "I 
happen  to  know  him,  and  I'll  lay  a  wager  that  his  wife  does  not 
get  five  dollars  worth  to-day." 

"But  he  told  her  to  take  just  what  she  wanted  ;  what  more 
could  he  do?"  answered  the  gentleman  addressed. 

"  But  keep  quiet  and  see  I  lose  nothing.  Did  you  notice 
with  what  timidity  she  approached  him  ?  " 

"  That  is  her  way,  I  presume." 

"If  you  are  not  in  a  hurry,  wait  a  bit,  and  see  if  my  words 
are  not  true.  You  take  one  of  these  papers  and  I  will  the 
other,  we  will  be  very  much  engaged  with  them  ;  pretend  to 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  7  5 

see,  and  hear  nothing :  but  to  satisfy  yourself  of  his  character, 
keep  an  eye  out,  just  the  same,  all  the  time  his  wife  is  in  the 
store." 

"I  will  take  a  dress  of  this  pretty  cashmere.  It's  but  a 
small  pattern,  but  I  think  I  can  make  it  do." 

By  this  time  her  husband  had  come  within  whispering  dis- 
tance, and  asked  her  if  she  knew  how  expensive  it  was ;  that 
it  was  as  much  as  fifty  cents  a  yard,  and  she  could  not  have  it. 

"Then  this  cambric,  papa,  oh,  it's  such  a  lovely  pink!  how 
well  it  would  become  our  little  Blanche ! " 

He  gave  her  a  look  that  well  nigh  demolished  her,  and  said 
in  an  undertone,  "You  are  satisfied  with  only  the  very  best,  I 
see ;  I'll  select  myself  at  my  leisure  and  bring  to  the  house, 
although  I  am  very  sure  the  children  do  not  need  a  thing." 

"Well,  but  please  give  me  money  to  purchase  hats." 

"How  much  do  you  want?"  he  said  very  pleasantly,  but 
loud  enough  to  be  heard  all  over  the  store  at  the  same  time — 
drawing  his  portemonnaie  from  his  pocket. 

"Three  dollars,  for  both — I'll  make  this  sum  answer." 

Really,  I  forgot  about  that  large  bill  I  settled  yesterday ;  but 
I  will  draw  on  the  bank  and  then  you  shall  have  all  the  money 
you  desire.  You  had  better  go  home  now,"  with  a  hypo- 
critical smile.  Elice,  heart-sick,  left  the  store;  she  had  been 
subjected  again  to  mortification  and  grief  by  her  husband,  and 
where  would  it  end? 

"Oh!  mamma  is  tumming  wiz  our  new  fings,"  said  Blanche, 
clapping  her  hands  in  a  perfect  paroxysm  of  delight.  "Now 
we  is  doin'  to  Sabbath  Stool  and  to  meetin' ;  ain't  we,  Charlie?" 
and  she  clasped  him  around  the  waist  and  held  him  up  to  the 
window  where  he  could  see  as  well  as  herself.  "What  you 
dot?"  she  asked,  as  her  mother  entered  the  door. 

"Nothing,  pet,  but  papa  will  bring  you  something,  I  guess." 

"Oh,  dear,  but  I  fot  I  sud  have  sum  new  suse,  an'  a  new 
bonnet ;  thee  here  how  my  tothes  are  sticking  out." 

"Yes,  dear,  I  see  it  all." 


76  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

Sure  enough,  Walter  brought  a  large  bundle,  and,  oh,  how 
the  heart  of  Elice  leaped  for  joy !  "I  am  so  glad,  so  glad,"  she 
said. 

He  opened  it  and  took  out  some  faded  remnants  of  goods 
which  had  been  in  the  store  for  a  long  time,  which  no  one 
would  purchase,  some  coarse  shoes,  a  cheap  hat  for  the  baby, 
but  none  for  Blanche. 

"  How  do  you  like  my  selection  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Elice. 

"  Just  as  I  expected,  you  always  want  the  dearest  of  every- 
thing. You  have  high  notions." 

"You  may  think  so;  but  supposing  I  have  this  cloth  made 
up,  which  you  ought  to  know  is  not  at  all  suitable — a  person 
who  has  been  selling  goods  for  so  many  years — besides  the 
poor  little  dears  being  mortified  to  wear  them,  we  would  be 
censured,  and  justly.  I  would  like  to  avoid  this,  would  you 
not,  papa?" 

"I  don't  care;  it's  nobody's  business  what  we  put  on  our 
children,  and  I  have  got  independence  enough  to  tell  them  so, 
if  I  hear  anything  said." 

"  But  it  is  not  what  other  children  wear.  The  cloth  might 
be  made  into  wrappers  for  the  morning,  but  for  no  other  time. 
I  guess  we  will  have  something  better,  wont  we,  papa  ? 
Daughter  must  have  the  pink  silk  hat,  and  the  pretty  white 
Swiss  for  these  hot  days,  for  the  Sabbath  School  ;  and  our  bon- 
nie  Charlie,  the  little  white  chip  trimmed  with  blue  ribbons, 
the  linen  suit  with  the  snowy  pearl  buttons.  What  do  you  say 
to  that,  duckies?" 

The  children  actually  danced  with  delight. 

"Can't  you  see,"  said  Walter,  "how  you  are  bringing  those 
children  up  ?  When  they  become  grown,  there  will  be  nothing 
good  enough  for  them." 

"It  is  natural  for  little  folks  to  have  pride  as  well  as  older 
persons,  and,  to  a  certain  degree,  it  is  quite  essential  for  their 
good." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  77 

"  To  bankrupt  their  fathers  ?" 

"  No,  you  cannot  say  this,  for  you  have  no  cause.  Now  see 
here  :  I  have  made  over  my  own  clothes  for  them  ;  that  silk 
sacque  worn  by  Blanche  this  summer,  was  one  of  mine  ;  the 
lawn  dress  and  aprons  from  garments  that  I  had  when  we  were 
married ;  and  I  have  turned  and  twisted  every  way  to  save  your 
money,  so  you  cannot  think  I  wish  to  waste,  or  be  lavish  at 
your  expense.  All  I  desire  is,  to  see  the  family  respectable." 

"  Well,  there  is  one  thing  I  want  to  say  to  you,  and  that  is 
this :  if  you  ever  come  into  my  store  again,  and  there  are  cus- 
tomers in,  and  ask  me  for  anything  before  them,  you'll  not  get 
one  penny's  worth ;  for  of  course  you  know  I  wouldn't  refuse 
you  before  them,  but  that  is  the  way  you  take  advantage  of 
me  ;  and  I  despise  any  one's  playing  such  little  underhanded 
tricks." 

"I  never  thought  it  would  make  any  difference." 

"Well,  it  does,  and  don't  you  do  it  again.  Now,  seeing 
you  take  on  so  terribly,  about  dress,  just  tell  me  how  much 
money  you  want  to  make  your  purchases,  and  if  I've  got 
enough  to  satisfy  you,  why,  you  can  have  it;  but  mind  now, 
you  must  not  ask  me  for  anything  again  very  soon. " 

She  then  made  an  estimate  of  the  cost  of  some  of  the  articles 
they  most  needed;  then  rolling  a  bill  in  his  hands  for  some 
moments,  as  if  hard  to  part  with  this  portion  of  his  treasures — 
but  only  a  small  portion  of  the  amount  desired — he  handed  it 
to  her,  but  with  a  look  so  sour  it  haunted  her  all  day,  and 
took  away  much  of  the  pleasure  she  felt  in  getting  gifts  for  the 
wee  ones ;  and  when  she  had  it  spent  and  the  things  in  her 
possession,  she  used  the  utmost  care  to  get  the  most  she  pos- 
sibly could  out  of  a  small  pattern. 

The  faded  garments  were  made  into  pretty  little  wrappers  for 
the  morning ;  the  muslins  and  cambrics  for  afternoons  and  the 
Sabbath  ;  and  never  was  an  own  mother  prouder  or  fonder  than 
she,  when  she  took  her  darlings  by  the  hand  on  the  following 
Lord's  Day -and  went  with  them  to  church  and  Sabbath-school, 


78  ,  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

dressed  in  their  new  suits  which  she  had  planned,  and  made ; 
how  many  times  an  inward  prayer  went  from  her  heart  for  this 
Divine  favor,  and  how  she  thanked  her  Father  above  that  had 
opened  her  husband's  heart,  and  deprecated  her  lack  of  faith  in 
Him  who  said,  "Consider  the  lilies  of  the  field  how  they  grow, 
they  toil  not  neither  do  they  spin,  and  yet,  I  say  unto  you,  that 
Solomon  |in  all  his  glory  was  not  arrayed  like  one  of  these. 
If  God  so  clothe  jthe  grass  of  the  field,  which  to-day  is  and 
to-morrow  is  cast  into  the  oven,  how  much  more  will  He  clothe 
you," — and  she  thought  as  she  wound  her  way  on  that  beauti- 
ful morning  to  hear  of  Christ  out  of  His  word,  that  trials  of 
this  life  should  no  longer  weigh  down  her  spirits ;  but,  like  the 
clouds  that  floated  along  before  her  eyes,  looking  so  like  things 
of  life,  and  drifting  away  from  the  dust  and  dross  of  earth,  so 
should  her  heart  rise  above  all  sorrow  and  be  fixed  more 
steadily  upon  Heaven.  And  as  she  listened  to  the  sermon 
preached  from  these  words:  "  Forgive  us  our  trespasses  as  we 
forgive  them  who  trespass  against  us," — another  prayer  went 
up  that  God  would  examine  her  heart,  aud  if  she  cherished  a 
spirit  of  hatred,  or  revenge  toward  any  person,  that  He  would 
banish  it  at  once,  no  matter  how  much  she  had  been  wro>nged 
or  ill-treated  by  him — that  -perhaps  it  had  been  suffered  for  a 
trial  of  her  faith.  And  she  went  home  better  prepared  to  bear 
the  ills  of  life,  with  more  of  the  subduing  influences  in  her 
heart  that  keeps  the  Christian  from  retaliating  in  anger,  when 
he  is  assailed,  when  he  is  persecuted,  and  obliged  to  bear  the 
weight  of  the  oppressor's  power. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  79 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

"Good  morning,  Mrs.  Clayton,"  said  Mrs.  Tattum,  as  the 
former  lady  appeared  at  her  front  door  one  morning.  "  You 
see  my  sleeves  are  rolled  up  ready  for  the  washtub ;  but  that's 
no  difference;  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come;  now  we  will  have 
a  little  cozy  chat.  Sit  down." 

"Wall,  I  don't  want  to  hinder  you,  and  wasn't  intendin'  to 
stay  but  jest  a  minute  when  I  came  in,  and  don't  let  me  bother 
you." 

"No  bother  at  all ;  I've  been  wanting  to  see  you  this  good 
while,  and  have  a  long  conversation  with  you  ;  for  you  are  just 
the  person  I  can  free  my  mind  with,  and  so  of  course,  you  are 
just  the  one  that  is  never  afraid  of  hearing  the  truth,  and  I've 
got  so  much  to  tell  you." 

"Wall  jest  so,  I  thought  likely,  mebbe  you  would  have,  and 
that's  jest  what  I  came  in  for ;  and  I  have  things  on  my  mind  I 
want  you  to  hear.  You  see,  when  any  body  has  any  trouble, 
they  do  like  to  have  some  one  that  can  sympathize  with  them  ; 
and,  as  you  was  always  one  of  my  best  friends,  I  never  had  any 
fear  that  anything  I  said  would  go  any  further.  Of  course  you 
won't  tell ;  for  I  don't  like  to  have  any  disturbance  with  any 
body,  and  will  bear  most  everything  before  I  will  say  anything. 
Father  says  I  am  a  fool  for  not  pitching  into  folks  and  telling 
them  just  what  I  think ;  but  you  know  that  ain't  me,  Mrs. 
Tattum,  and  I  can't  do  it.  Now,  I  have  lived  a  great  many 
years  in  this  town,  and  never  had  a  word  with  nobody.  Why, 


8O  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

father  says  that's  what  no  other  women  would  have  done,  and 
he  thinks — why — I  don't  want  you  to  think  I  want  to  praise 
myself,  or  set  myself  up  in  no  way ;  but  I'ze  telling  just  what 
he  thinks — that  I  was  almost  a  saint." 

"Yes,  I  think  myself  you  are.  Now,  see  what  care  you  took 
of  those  children,  and  what  good  care  you  took  of  them,  too ; 
and  they  were  a  world  of  trouble  to  you,  and  you  never  got 
one  cent  for  it,  did  you  ?  " 

"  Wall — no — yass — no — well,  no,  I  didn't  get  much  of  noth- 
ing of  any  account." 

"As  much  as  eight  dollars  a  week  for  both  of  'em?  " 

"Why!  who  told  you  that  ?  That  ain't  so;  I  only  got  six 
dollars,  and  then  that  wan't  just  nothin'  at  all,  for  all  the  trouble 
them  children  give  me  ;"  but  you  know  I  didn't  take  'em  for 
money,  poor  little  orphan,  motherless  children  !  " 

"Ha!  ha!"  is  Mrs.  Tattum's  inward  ejaculation,  "that,  my 
lady,  is  what  has  roiled  the  water  between  you  and  your  daugh- 
ter-in-law— the  loss  of  that  six  dollars  !  "  but  she  said,  "  I  know 
well  you  didn't,  and  it  would  be  a  great  while  before  anyone 
would  do  just  as  you  did.  Why,  I  don't  believe  I  would  my- 
self, and  I've  a  pretty  clear  conscience  as  to  what  I  ought  to 
do." 

"  Wall,  I  come  to  ask  you  how  you  thought  they  wus  gitting 
along  over  there;  you  know  where  I  mean." 

"To  Walter's,  I  spose.     Of  course  I  know." 

"The  truth  is,  I  haven't  been  there  much  lately,  for  the  hired 
girl  is  so  dumbed  sassy,  and  snubs  me  at  such  a  rate,  I  stay 
away.  We  had  a  little  squirmish,  and  she  hasn't  treated  me 
any  too  well  ever  since  ;  and  betwixt  her  and  Walter's  wife,  I 
don't  go  any  oftener  than  I  can  help ;  though  I  shall  allers  go 
to  see  those  poor  little,  motherless,  orphan  children,  jist  as 
long  as  they  live,  for  all  of  them." 

"  Why,  of  course,  what  was  the  muss  all  about?  " 

"Why,  she  was  sassy  and  abused  my  son,  and  tried  to  make 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  8 1 

out  he  didn't  use  his  first  wife  well,  and  so  on,  when  you  know 
he's  one  of  the  very  best  men  in  the  world." 

"Certainly  I  do;  and  what's  more,  Clorinda  Jones  does; 
for  I  heard  her  say  she  worked  for  his  first  wife,  and  he  was 
dreadful  kind  to  her,  and  would  be  to  this  one,  likely,  if  she 
were  deserving  it :  but  you  know,  sometimes  step-mothers  are 
not  deserving." 

"Well,  that's  jest  what  I  wanted  to  get  at — whether,  living 
here  as  you  do,  so  near,  you  thought  she  did  use  them  children 
good  or  not." 

' '  Now,  I  do  not  wish  to  make  a  fuss  in  any  way ;  but  I  hear 
them  crying  a  good  deal,  and  what  could  they  be  crying  about 
unless  they  were  getting  whipped?" 

Mrs.  Clayton,  greatly  excited — "And  who  could  be  whip- 
ping them,  if  it  wan't  that  good-fer-nuthin  step-mother  of 
their n?  " 

"That's  so — that's  just  so — just  exactly  as  I  thought.  Now, 
I'd  be  the  last  one  to  accuse  anybody  wrongfully,  for  you  know 
I  belong  to  the  church  in  this  very  place,  and  it  wouldn't  be 
me  that  would  tell  anything  but  the  truth." 

"Wall,  no,  I  don't  believe  you  would,"  answered  Mrs. 
Clayton. 

"  I'm  sure  you  wouldn't  tell  to  make  me  trouble,  so  I'll  tell 
jsut  what  I  do  know." 

"Sartinly  not." 

"All  right,  then.  One  day  (I  think  it  was  in  the  morning)  I 
heard  a  child  scream  ;  I  went  to  the  front  door,  and  what 
should  meet  my  astonished  eyes ! — well,  no,  I  wasn't  much 
astonished  either,  after  all;  it  was  just  what  one  would  expect 
of  her ;  but,  as  I  was  saying,  I  went  to  the  door  and  saw  your 
daughter-in-law  with  a  whip  in  her  hand  and  Blanche  by  the 
side  of  her,  and  it  was  she  who  was  taking  on  so.  Now,  you 
can  be  your  own  judge  of  what  had  happened. " 

"  Wall,  now,  you  don't  say!  "  said  the  old  lady,  hitching  up 
a  little  nearer.  "Poor  child,  how  she  misses  her  own  mother 


82  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

what's  up  now  in  Heaven !  I  don't  think  she  jest  orter  gone 
off  in  that  way  and  left  'em  poor  leetle  things  ;  wall,  no,  that 
ain't  jest  what  I  mean  after  all;  but  I  mean — ' 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  you  mean," — with  an  inward 
giggle,  as  she  afterward  said  of  the  "old  fool," — "My  daughter- 
in-law  is  in  league  with  the  evil  one  against  those  poor,  little, 
motherless,  orphan  children  !  " 

To  which  she  made  answer,  "Jest  so — I  couldn't  spoke  my 
own  mind  any  better. " 

"  Another  time  I  was  going  along  and  the  baby  was  out  on 
the  front  steps,  and  I  just  thought  he  would  go  into  fits,  he 
was  crying  so  hard.  I  stopped  and  asked  him  what  the  matter 
was ;  and  he  said  something  about  mamma,  and  I  thought  he 
said  (but  I  couldn't4tell  for  certain;  you  know  I  can't  tell  you 
a  lie  or  misrepresent  anything,  because  the  communion  is  next 
Sunday);  but  I  thought  he  said,  'Mamma  spanked  baby.'  " 

"  Wall,  wall,  wasn't  that  terrible!  and  nothing  but  a  baby, 
neither  ;  it  makes  my  blood  bile !  and  I  shall  jest  inform  Wal- 
ter— I  consider  it  my  duty,  don't  you,  Mrs.  Tattum  ?" 

"I  guess  I  do  ;  I  wouldn't  let  the  sun  go  down  before  he 
should  know  all  about  it.  Of  course  you  won't  bring  my  name 
in;  and  I'll  tell  you  what's  more:  if  I  were  dead  and  those 
were  my  children,  I  couldn't  sleep  in  my  grave  when  she  was 
in  her  tantrums  with  the  little  dears ;  but  I'd  walk  right  up  to 
her  in  my  shroud,  and  let  her  know  what  was  what.  I've  heard 
dead  folks  did  do  that  sometimes." 

"  Wall,  them's  the  times  they  orter  come,  I'm  sure." 

"I  ain't  told  you  all  yet:  another  time  that  little  dear  had 
the  nose-bleed  very  bad,  and  she  never  offered  to  stop  it ;  and  I 
went  over  there  and  listened  around,  and  when  she  saw  me 
coming  she  might  have  hid,  for  all  I  know,  for  she  was  no 
where  to  be  seen.  I  took  him  in  my  arms  and  went  to  the 
pump,  and  pumped  water  all  over  his  little  head  and  it  soon 
stopped  it,  I  tell  you ;  and  she  never  put  in  an  appearance  all 
this  time.  Perhaps  she  does  not  like  me,  but  I  don't  care  for 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  83 

that  If  I  see  anybody  abuse  other  folks'  children,  I'm  the  one 
to  take  their  part,  no  matter  who  they  belong  to.  But  friends 
like  your  son,  Walter,  and  his  first  wife,  my,  though  !  do  you 
think  I'd  stand  by  and  see  a  cross  word  spoken  to  them  ?  No, 
indeed !  " 

"  Wall,  that's  jest  doin'  as  you  would  be  done  by;  and  I  am 
so  thankful  for  the  interest  you  take  in  them  poor,  little,  moth- 
erless orphans.  If  you  don't  get  your  reward  here,  I  know 
you  will  hereafter ;  and  she — why,  she  will  be  punished,  and 
she  orter  be." 

"That's  jest  so,  Mrs.  Clayton — she  ought  to  be;  but  I've  a 
plan,  and  it  is  a  good  one  :  I'll  go  to  the  hired  girl,  and  find 
out  everything — now  see — and  then  I'll  tell  you." 

"  No  use,  you  couldn't  get  a  word  out  of  her,  no  how  ;  and 
I'm  going  to  have  her  ousted  and  get  some  one  in  her  place 
that  won't  be  all  on  one  side  like  a  jug  handle.  She  wouldn't 
say  one  word  against  her  mistress  to  save  both  of  our  lives." 

' '  But  I  can  manage  her,  I  know  just  how ;  leave  it  all  to  me, 
and  when  you  come  again,  you  will  say  I  am  nobody's  fool." 

"Wall,  if  you  can  and  will,  I'll  send  you  down  two  bushels 
of  the  best  harvest  apples  you  ever  put  your  teeth  in." 

"All  right,  but  I  don't  want  any  pay;  I'll  do  it  jes.t  for 
humanity's  sake  ;  and  what  better  reward  can  we  have  than  a 
clear  conscience  ?  " 

"  Wall,  that's  so,  but  I  must  go  ;  I  hope  I  hain't  bothered 
you." 

"  No,  you  haven't,  for  I  was  just  dying  to  see  you." 

"You  are  so  good,"  said  the  old  lady,  taking  her  hand  and 
giving  her  a  parting  kiss. 

That  afternoon  Bridget  passed  the  residence  of  Mrs.  Tattum, 
whose  garden  displayed  a  profusion  of  choice  flowers.  Stop- 
ping for  one  moment  to  indulge  in  a  look  at  them,  she  was 
seen  by  Mrs.  Tattum  who  straightway  called  to  her  and  invited 
her  to  enter. 


84  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

"Oh,  no,  mum,  I  can't  tarry,  I'm  in  sich  haste,  going  on  an 
irrend  fur  the  mistress." 

"Well,  then,  if  you  can't  stay,  I  will  gather  a  nosegay  of 
these  choice  lilies  for  Mrs.  Clayton." 

"She's  very  fond  of  purty  flowers,  sure;  so,  mum,  if  you 
please  I'll  take  them  to  her." 

Opening  wide  the  gate  she  bade  her  enter  and,  while  cutting 
and  arranging  her  boquet,  she  made  all  possible  haste  to  open 
up  her  business,  which  she  did  in  the  most  artful,  insinuating 
manner. 

"  And  your  name  is  Donnelly  ?" 

"  It  is  thin,  mum." 

"And  are  you  from  Dublin?" 

"Sure,  thin,  mum,  thot's  the  thruth  for  yez." 

"I  am  of  Irish  descent,  myself;  my  name  was  Donnelly,  and 
I  have  friends  living  now  in  the  city  of  Dublin.  How  strange 
if  we  should  find  out  that,  after  all,  we  were  relatives." 

For  a  moment  the  loving,  honest  heart  of  Bridget  warmed 
towards  this  woman,  when,  from  some  inexplicable  reason,  she 
started  up  in  alarm,  exclaiming,^'!  must  go;  the  mistress  will 
be  waiting  for  me." 

"I  will  not  detain  you,"  she  said,  handing  her  a  bunch  of 
lilies  and  roses  beautifully  arranged  ;  for  in  this  little  transaction 
she  had  an  eye  to  capturing  the  mistress  as  well  as  the  maid. 

"Give  them  to  Mrs.  Clayton,  and  tell  her  to  call  over  and 
see  me ;  and  you  get  leave  of  her  and  drop  in  to-morrow,  and 
we  will  talk  it  over ;  I  wouldn't  wonder  if  we  were  closely 
connected — perhaps  cousins." 

"Well,  mebbe, "  said  Bridget,  who  had  already  started. 

"  Come  at  five  o'clock;  otherwise  I  might  not  be  here." 

"Sure,  mum,  I'll  see  if  the  misthress  is  willing." 

"Oh,  she  will  be  willing,"  and  feeling  that  her  only  hope  for 
the  success  of  her  plan  lay  in  diverting  the  mind  of  her  maid 
to  Mrs.  Clayton,  she  added,  "  She's  the  sweetest,  bonniest 
mistress  in  the  wide  world,  eh?" 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  85 

This  praise  of  her  mistress  seemed  to  quiet  the  feelings  of 
Bridget,  for  she  added,  "  I'll  come  thin,  sure." 

"How  could  you,  mother?"  said  Mrs.  Glenn,  her  daughter, 
a  real  lady,  who  married  some  years  ago,  and  was  now  home 
from  Brooklyn  on  a  visit. 

"Could  I  what?"  answered  her  mother,  laughing. 

"  Why,  bring  yourself  down  on  a  level  with  that  Irish  girl !  " 

"Why,  what's  the  difference?"  seeming  to  enjoy  her  joke 
hugely  ;  "it's  only  a  little  play  acting — the  price  of  two  bushels 
of  delicious  harvest  apples — don't  your  mouth  water  already?" 

"  O,  mother !  how  can  you  ?  But  I  know  yon  will  do  nothing 
dishonorable." 

"  Of  course  I  won't,  you  chit,  you  ;  I  only  want  to  find  out 
something  I  really  desire  to  know — something  necessary,  and 
has  nothing  to  do  with  the  Claytons."  And  thus  she  deluded 
her  daughter. 

She  talked  it  all  over  with  her  mistress  who,  unaware  of  the 
pitfall  set  for  her,  could  see  no  reason  why  Bridget  should  not 
go ;  and  she  even  reminded  her  of  the  time  when  it  had  almost 
elapsed,  and  she  saw  that  she  was  making  no  preparation  to 
start 

"On  time!"  said  Mrs.  Tattum  a  few  minutes  after.  "You 
see  I  got  rid  of  the  girls  and  all  my  visitors  so  that  I  could  have 
a  good  visit  with  you.  I  have  been  studying  over  the  matter 
since  you  were  here,  and  find  that  your  uncle  Donnelly  at 
Dublin  is  a  first  cousin  of  mine." 

"Sure,  thin!" 

"So  you  see,  that  makes  us  blood  relatives,  don't  you?" 

"Mebbe,  mum,  and  mebbe  not;  I  don't  jist  see." 

"But  I  know  to  a  dead  certainty;  I  can't  just  explain,  but 
it's  the  truth  ;  and  I  had  a  letter  from  him  a  while  ago." 

"You  did,  thin  !  "  said  Bridget,  looking  at  her  incredulously. 

"Yes,  I've  been  looking  for  it,  but  I  can't  just  lay  my  hand 
on  it.  You  don't  think  I'm  lying  to  you,  Bridget?" 

"And  I  hope  not,  mum." 


86  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

"Are  you  fond  of  strawberries  and  cream,  Bridget?  Here 
is  a  dish  I  prepared  purposely  for  you  ;  I  do  think  so  much  of 
my  relations.  And  here  is  another  dish ;  we  will  eat  them  to- 
gether in  token  of  a  lifelong  friendship." 

They  conversed  a  few  moments  on  different  subjects,  but 
mostly  in  reference  to  their  relationship.  Mrs.  Tattum  finally 
brought  it  about  naturally,  to  ply  her  with  questions  concerning 
her  situation. 

"How  do  you  like  your  place?" 

"  Iligant,  sure,  and  why  shouldn't  I,  mum  ?  " 

' '  The  old  woman  tells  great  stories  about  you  ;  said  you  and 
she  had  a  regular  pitched  fight,  how  is  that?  " 

"  Path,  thin  !  I  niver  heard  of  it  afore !  " 

"  Well,  I  made  up  my  mind  she  was  lying;  I  don't  believe 
much  she  says,  any  way — a  regular  mischief-maker.  Now  she 
came  to  me  yesterday,  when  I  was  up  to  my  eyes  in  washing, 
and  I  as  good  as  told  her  I  had  no  time  to  spare ;  but  it  didn't 
make  any  difference,  she's  got  lots  of  cheek;  she  cuddled  right 
down  in  the  kitchen,  and  began  to  talk  about  the  folks  over 
there — you  know  whom  I  mean  ?  "  she  said,  shrugging  her 
shoulders  and  winking. 

"  I  don't  think  I  jist  understand,  mum." 

"Well,  you  and  your  mistress,  she  said,  abused  the  chil- 
dren; and  that  you  were  a  good-for-nothing  Irish  trollop  that 
hadn't  any  soul ;  and  she  was  going  to  have  Walter  discharge 
you,  and  wanted  me  to  watch  you  and  Mrs.  Clayton,  to  see  if 
you  didn't  whip  those  children.  Just  think  what  a  shame!  I 
was  fearful  mad,  I  tell  you,  and  told  her  as  much.  That  was 
one  reason  why  I  wanted  to  see  you,  to  set  you  and  your  mis- 
tress on  guard  against  the  old  huzzy.  Now,  Bridget,  keep 
shady,  don't  say  a  word  ;  although  your  mistress  ought  to  know 
just  what  she  says,  I  wouldn't  make  mischief  for  the  world  ;  but 
our  being  relatives,  so  I  thought  I  would  tell  you.  Do  you  get 
treated  well  yourself?" 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  8/ 

"  Well,  thin,  and  I  do,  sure.  Mrs.  Clayton  is  the  same  to  me 
as  my  mither,  and  I  love  her." 

' '  I  am  very  glad  of  it ;  because  if  you  weren't,  you  would  have 
to  be  looking  up  another  place,  for  I  couldn't  bear  to  see  any 
of  my  kin  ill  treated.  Isn't  Walter  Clayton  an  old  miser  ?  and 
do  you  have  enough  to  eat?  I  heard  you  didn't  ;  I  know  he's  the 
meanest  man  that  ever  breathed — just  like  his  mother." 

Bridget  arose  in  great  wrath,  threw  her  saucer  upon  the  table, 
and  replied,  "  If,  thin,  ye  are  a  Donnelly  and  kith  to  me,  I  will 
change  my  name  ;  for  ye  are  a  liar,  and  know  it  too.  There 
never  was  a  tattlin'  vein  run  through  their  bodies  !  Now,  don't 
niver  bid  me  to  yez  house  agin,  for  ye  "are  naught  but  a  meddle- 
some old  body ;  yez  took  me  for  a  fool,  sure,  and  it's  yez  own 
sel'  that's  a  fool!"  And  at  this  she  rushed  out  of  the  door, 
shaking  her  feet  and  garments,  as  if  she  would  shake  off  the  dust 
of  deceit,  hypocrisy  and  lying  that  had  gathered  upon  them. 


88  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  large  concourse  of  ladies  was  in  the  habit  of  assembling 
at  the  church  parlors  every  week  for  the  purpose  of  sewing  for 
the  poor  children  of  those  parents  who  chanced  to  belong  to 
this  particular  denomination. 

Mrs.  Tattum,  ever  ready  to  attend  to  its  calls,  had  canvassed 
the  town  thoroughly,  and  brought  a  list  of  the  names  of  those 
who  could  not  attend  the  Sabbath-school  for  want  of  proper 
clothing  ;  and  herewith  she  made  a  move,  that  all  the  stores 
and  houses  in  town  should  be  visited,  and  whatever  money 
could  be  collected,  should  be  brought  into  the  treasury  to  await 
the  wants  of  the  poor  "heathen  children,"  as  she  was  pleased 
to  call  them;  that  she  would  take  upon  herself  the  task  out  of 
love  to  the  poor  creatures  to  whom  poverty  had  denied  the 
privileges  of  the  gospel.  She  was  an  active  worker  in  the 
church,  and  not  wishing  to  offend  her,  she  found  an  acquies- 
cence in  her  plans;  although  the  most  of  the  ladies  would  have 
preferred  another  person,  they  did  not  say  so. 

Persistent  in  her  wants,  eloquent  in  her  appeals,  she  suc- 
ceeded admirably ;  every  man,  woman,  and  grown  up  child 
being  asked  to  give  something.  Of  some  she  got  clothing,  of 
others  money,  of  merchants,  goods  and  groceries  generally. 
Of  all  these  she  pretended  to  keep  a  record,  but  only  about 
one-half  of  the  receipts  were  accounted  for ;  but  at  home  in 
secret,  she  reckoned  her  ill  gotten  gains  and  put  them  to  the 
use  of  herself  and  daughters. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  89 

"Why  don't  you  visit  the  Claytons  and  put  their  children  on 
the  list?  "  said  Augusta  Tattum  ironically  to  her  mother  at  one 
of  these  social  gatherings. 

"Why!  why!  "  spoke  several  voices,  "and  they  so  wealthy?" 

"Yes,  rich  enough — very  rich,  I  suppose,  but  their  young 
ones  are  perfect  tatterdemalions." 

"That's  not  so,  now,"  answered  Mrs.  Tattum,  "you  might 
take  them  for  a  poor  man's  children,  however,  sometimes," — 
trying  to  smooth  the  matter  over  as  she  was  too  far-sighted  to 
tell  all  she  would,  when  she  saw  any  of  the  friends  of  the  family 
around ;  for  she  did  not  know,  but,  as  she  had  often  before 
remarked,  she  might  have  "a  little  axe  to  grind,"  and  some 
one  of  the  Claytons  might  assist  her. 

"Well,  now,  mother,"  said  Augusta  angrily,  "you  needn't 
try  to  oil  up  matters,  for  you  know  that  was  just  what  you 
called  them  yourself,  yesterday,  when  they  passed  our  house — 
and  worse — you  said,  '  If  their  own  mother  had  lived,  they  never 
would  have  been  in  the  street  with  such  patched  clothes,  and 
their  toes  all  out  of  their  shoes.'  " 

"I  saw  them  myself,"  answered  another,  "and  I  almost 
cursed  step-mothers  in  my  heart,  and  should,  had  it  not  been 
tjie  children  were  so  very  neat  and  clean.  I  thought  she  must 
have  some  redeeming  qualities.  Of  course  she  has  no  reason 
for  allowing  them  to  go  looking  so,  when  their  father  would  get 
them  anything  she  desired,  he  is  so  very  wealthy ;  I  wonder 
that  he  allows  it !  " 

"  Yes,  anything  but  a  stepmother.  Those  poor  little  things 
are  really  to  be  pitied ;  they  might  just  as  well  have  no  one  to 
take  care  of  them  at  all  as  this  new  wife,"  said  Augusta  Tat- 
tum. 

"Hush  up,  now,"  whispered  her  mother,  "or  you'll  be 
sorry  for  all  this'Treedom  of  speech." 

"  I  saw  the  children  at  home  very  recently,"  spoke  another 
voice,  "  they  were  not  at  all  ragged  or  dirty,  but  their  raiment 

6 


pO  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

was  more  like  Joseph's  of  olden  time  than  anything  else — of 
many  colors ;  and  I  thought  then  that  she  either  did  not  care 
how  they  looked,  or  was  very  odd,  to  say  the  least." 

"  Ladies,"  said  Mrs.  Ashton,  while  her  voice  trembled  with 
the  deepest  emotion,  "if  you  will  allow  me,  I  think  I  can 
explain  matters  to  your  satisfaction,  and  perhaps  clear  up  the 
character  of  her  who,  whether  intentionally  or  not,  has  been  so 
slandered  to-day  by  parties  of  this  sewing  society.  I  was  at 
the  residence  .of  Mrs.  Clayton  when  her  husband  brought 
remnants  to  make  up  for  the  children,  which  looked  more  to 
me  like  curtain  calico  than  otherwise.  She  told  him  it  was  not 
at  all  suitable  and  did  not  wish  to  use  it.  He  flew  in  a  passion, 
as  he  always  does,  when  he  cannot  have  his  own  way,  and  said 
it  would  be  the  very  last  article  he  should  ever  bring  to  the 
house,  as  it  was  impossible  to  please  her.  I  told  her  to  use  the 
cloth,  and  when  he  saw  how  ridiculously  the  children  looked  in 
suits  from  this  material,  he  would  never  bring-  the  same  again. 
She  said  she  would  be  censured,  but  I  told  her  not  to  mind  that. 
I  think  she  did  perfectly  right." 

"And  I — and  I,"  was  heard  in  every  part  of  the  room. 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it,"  said  Augusta  Tattum  in  an 
undertone  to  a  lady  who  sat  near  Irer.  ' '  She  could  have  just 
what  she'd  a  mind  to,  but  she's  a  stepmother, 'and  don't  care 
anything  about  those  poor  little  orphans. " 

Mrs.  Clayton  had  the  sympathy,  however,  of  most  of  the 
ladies,  while  some  of  them  were  incensed  beyond  endurance  by 
the  slanderous  remarks  that  were  made.  One  of  them  turning 
her  flashing  eyes  upon  Augusta  Tattum,  an  elderly  lady  who 
had  known  the  family  since  she  was  a  baby,  said,  "  You  can't 
remember,  perhaps,  how  you  used  to  go  looking.  Half  the 
time  you  had  no  hat  nor  shoes  on  at  all ;  and  it  was  not  patched 
clothes  you  wore,  but  those  that  were  tattered  and  torn  ;  and 
you  looked  like  a  beggar;  and  you  had  an  own  mother.  Now 
when  you  talk  about  Mrs.  Clayton  in  the  way  you  do,  I  believe 
you  only  intend  to  blacken  her  character.  And  I  would  say  to 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  gi 

these  ladies  in  her  behalf,  that  she  does  everything  in  her  power 
for  the  whole  family.  She  has  sat  up  all  night  long  with  those 
children  when  they  were  sick,  and  taken  the  very  best  of  care 
of  them  ;  and  further,  she  would  be  as  glad  as  any  mother 
present  to  see  them  neatly  dressed  at  all  times.  You  are  not 
aware  how  hard  it  is  for  her  to  get  the  necessaries  of  life.  Now, 
Miss  Tattum,  would  it  not  be  better  to  tell  things  just  as  they 
are,  and  not  take  advantage  of  an  innocent  person  in  her  ab- 
sence to  bring  her  into  disrepute  ?  I  have  seen  you  meet  her 
on  the  street,  and  one  would  judge  from  your  manner  that 
you  were  the  very  best  of  friends ;  but  I  know,  now,  you  are  a 
Judas;  your  kisses  the  same  as  his ;  and  there  is  not  one  in  this 
company  who  might  not  be  a  target  for  the  shafts  of  your 
unruly  tongue  in  her  absence." 

"Good  enough — good  enough, "  whispered  Mrs.  Tattum  to 
her  daughter,  "  Now  keep  your  tongue  to  yourself,  after  this, 
and* don't  go  talking  about  folks  at  sewing  societies;  you  better 
go  home  about  your  business!  " 

"  Not  till  I  give  that  woman  a  piece  of  my  mind,  now  I  tell 
you." 

Her  mother  then  said  something  else  to  her,  which  seemed 
to  have  the  desired  effect,  for  she  flew  out  of  the  room,  put  on 
her  things,  and  left -without  replying. 

"  Well !  now  !  Walter,  my  son,  is  one  of  the  very  first-class 
providers,  and  has  the  best  of  taste,  and  don't  bring  nothing 
to  the  house  but  the  prettiest  he  has  in  the  store,"  said  the 
elder  Mrs.  Clayton,  putting  in  an  appearance  from  an  adjoining 
room  where^she  had  been  an  unknown  listener  to  all  the  con- 
versation. 

"That's  so;  those  dresses  are  nice  and  stylish  too;  I  don't 
see  why  there  is  so  much  fuss  about  nothing — now  my  daugh- 
ter has  just  come  from  the  city,  and  says,  '  Rainbow  cloth  is 
all  the  fashion,'  and  I  presume  as  Mr.  Clayton  has  just  been 
there,  he  got  this  goods  on  purpose  for  the  children — trust  to 
his  taste  every  time;  he  knows,"  said  Mrs.  Tattum  in  the 


92  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

slightest  tones  of  raillery,  perceptible  to  every  one  but  the  old 
lady. 

"Wall,  he  orto  know, — I  don't  see  why  he  shouldn't,"  she 
replied. 

"  How  long  has  he  kept  store?  " 

"About  ten  years." 

"I  saw  that  goods  there  upon  the  opening,"  said  Mrs.  Ash- 
ton,  determined,  if  possible,  to  open  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Clayton 
to  the  deception  of  her  double-faced  friend. 

"And  no  one  thought  enough  of  it  to  buy  since?  Is  that 
it?  Well,  that  is  the  best  of  policy — just  what  I'd  do  myself, 
and  every  one  that  is  not  very  well  off  ought  to  do.  He's  a 
first-class  financier.  It  is  not  half  the  folks  that  know  how  to 
keep  money  when  they  get  it, — but  he  does — and  that  is  right," 
answered  Mrs.  Tattum  with  a  smile  and  a  shrug  of  the  shoul- 
ders, which  Mrs.  Clayton  did  not  see, — nor  did  she  intend  she 
should — for  she  wished  her  to  think  she  was  in  sympathy  \tfith 
her ;  and  while  her  words  conveyed  this  meaning,  her  appear- 
ance, more  powerful  than  these,  told  the  other  party  that  she 
held  him  in  derisive  scorn. 

"  Wall,  he's  made  what  he  has  got  himself,  for  he  was  noth- 
ing but  a  poor  boy  in  the  first  place,  and  he's  worked  his  way 
up,"  said  the  old  lady. 

"  Honest  '  Old  Abe'  was  a  rail  splitter  and  he  got  to  be  Presi- 
dent; there's  nothing  like  ambition  and  perseverance  ;  wouldn't 
wonder  if  we  should  see  some  of  our  citizens  in  the  White  House 
yet — wish  we  might,  they'd  give  us  all  offices  like  enough,  and 
then  we'd  all  get  rich,"  said  Mrs.  Tattum. 

One  of  the  Committee  announced  tea,  and  here  the  conversa- 
tion closed  in  reference  to  the  Claytons.  More  gossip  than  work, 
as  usual,  had  been  accomplished  ;  some  of  the  ladies,  disgusted, 
had  the  audacity  to  say  that  the  Sewing  Society  had  got  to  be  a 
great  sieve,  where  each  one's  character  must  be  riddled  ;  and 
they  believed  they  would  stay  at  home  and  give  directly  to  the 
poor,  and  then  they  would  be  sure  they  got  it. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  93 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A  year  has  passed  since  Elice  entered  upon  her  duties  as 
wife  and  mother  ;  and  sad  as  the  twelve-month  has  been  pic- 
tured, the  "little  mother"  at  times  longing  to  loose  the  tether 
and,  unconstrained,  lie  silently  down  in  the  arms  of  the  Good 
Shepherd — the  snowy  fleece  caught  and  in  many  fragments 
hanging  upon  the  rough  thorns  of  vituperation,  of  cold,  cruel 
neglect,  and  miserly  wrong.  Yet  she  felt  her  married  life  had 
not  been  altogether  unfruitful.  She  had  learned  many  lessons 
of  faith  and  quiet  endurance  upon  the  way  that  had  seemed  to 
her  an  untrodden,  trackless  desert,  where  burning  sands  had 
blistered  her  bleeding  feet ;  and  dense  clouds  shut  out  every 
ray  of  sunlight,  so  that  she  neither  saw  nor  heard  aught  but 
the  raving  winds  and  tumultuous  hurricanes  that  beat  with 
pitiless  destructive  force,  uprooting  every  green  plant,  each 
beautiful  germ  that  might  have  struggled  to  life  and  growth 
and  strength  in  the  desolate  garden  of  her  soul.  And  had  it 
not  been  for  the  glimpses  of  the  "bright  beyond,"  the  finger 
of  an  Almighty  Friend  pointing  through  the  mists  to  the  azure 
gates,  her  temptations  would  at  times  have  led  her  to  put  an 
end  to  her  unhappy  existence.  It  was  in  one  of  these  fits  of 
despondency  when  she  felt  so  much  the  need  of  sympathy  and 
did  not  get  it;  when  another  was  to  become  a  living  soul  and 
take  its  place  upon  her  bosom,  which  she  felt  was  to  be  buffeted 
about  like  herself  on  life's  stormy  sea,  without  hope,  without 
love ;  which,  although  waiting  and  striving,  and  begging  for, 
never  came,  nor  never  would,  that  she  penned  the  following: 


94'  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

"How  shall  I  cool  my  fevered  brain? 
How  shall  I  break  this  cankered  chain  ? 
Though  scattered  here  and  there  a  gem, 
Rich  settings  for  some  diadem, 
They  rankle  in  my  aching  heart, 
Till  tears  in  quick  succession  start. 

My  idol  brought  the  choicest  flowers 
E'er  culled  in  Cupid's  rosy  bowers, 
And  bound  them  in  my  tresses  gay 
Upon  our  happy  wedding  day  ; 
And  said  that  years  with  rapid  flight, 
These  flowers  of  love  should  never  blight. 

In  me  he'd  found  a  blossom  rare 

That  he  should  guard  with  jealous  care ; 

That  mildew  breath  or  blighting*  worm 

Should  ne'er  destroy  this  precious  germ 

Of  beauty,  innocence,  and  truth ; 

That  love  grown  old  should  crown  our  youth. 

My  flowers  are  withered,  every  one  ; 
The  fabric,  beauteous  begun, 
Of  threads  on  threads  of  golden  light 
Dissolved  in  darkness  and  in  night ; 
And  lines  of  grief  alone  are  traced 
Upon  the  spot  they  were  effaced. 

Sweet  mother,  on  thy  loving  breast, 
Thy  weary  child  again  would  rest  ; 
For  oh,  my  husband  loves  me  not, 
And  long,  so  long  ago  forgot 
The  sacred  vows  he  made  to  thee, 
That  he  would  love  and  cherish  me." 

When  she  had  finished  writing,  she  folded  the  poem  and  laid 
it  in  a  box  containing  papers  which  Jhad  not  been  opened  since 
the  morning  she  started  from  home,  when,  in  the  excess  of  her 
joy,  she  felt  that  she  had  won  a  priceless  treasure,  a  heart 
above  suspicion,  a  friend  who  would  protect,  cherish  and  love 
her  through  all  the  vicissitudes  of  life  ;  one  upon  whom  she  could 
lean  in  sickness  and  in  health,  that  would  sustain  and  shield  her 
in  all  the  trials  that  might  await  her ;  and  thus  they  would  pass 
down  the  stream  of  time,  encouraging  each  other  with  pleasant 
smiles,  and  tender  words,  until  they  reached  the  valley,  when 
they  would  pass  over  gently,  conscious  of  no  unpardoned  wrong 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  95 

that  they  had  ever  done  each  other  to  mar  life's  transitory  note 
book. 

Such  wild  visions  did  her  fancy  picture  ;  such  beautiful  dreams 
of  future  bliss  came  to  her  childish  imagination.  With  a  mind 
thus  exalted,  and  overshadowed  with  happy  expectancy,  who 
could  wonder  that,  while  waiting  in  the  depot  for  the  train  which 
was  hours  late,  she  should  take  from  her  pocket  a  note  book  and 
pencil  the  following  :  "To  my  husband  ;"  not  for  the  eye  of 
the  world  ;  not  for  his,  but  simply  an  outburst  of  enthusiasm  and 
love,  converted  into  a  pen  picture,  mirrored  upon  paper  and 
there  it  lay — the  same,  identical  words  that  she  had  that  morn- 
ing— her  wedding  morning — traced.  Oh,  how  it  thrilled  her  as 
her  eyes  fell  upon  this,  and  what  memories  it  brought  up,  while 
every  letter  burned  upon  her  bosom  like  blistering  lava  !  for  she 
could  not  recall  that  time  without  feeling  that  the  weight  of 
years  of  suffering  had  been  crowded  into  the  brief  period  that 
had  elapsed  since  then.  She  took  it  from  its  hiding  place,  how- 
ever, and  read,  while  her  agony  was  too  great  for  utterances  : 

' '  Thy  love  is  sweeter,  far  to  me 
Than  breath  of  jasmine  flowers, 
That  in  their  brightness  gem  the  lea, 
Or  Flora's  dewy  bowers. 

'Tis  sweeter  far  than  sunset  glows 
Upon  the  clouds  at  even, 
When  every  gentle  breeze  that  blows 
Is  telling  us  of  Heaven. 

'Tis  sweeter  far  than  violets 
That  lift  toward  the  sky 
The  drooping  lash,  the  velvet  lids, 
The  soft,  the  pale  blue  eye. 

A  day  beam  from  the  realms  of  light, 
A  tale  as  sweet  as  morn, 
Where  Angels  bathe  their  pinions  bright, 
And  happiness  is  born." 

When  she  had  finished  reading,  she  folded  the  paper  and  laid 
it  away  again  in  the  box,  hardly  knowing  what  she  did,  for  her 
head  reeled  and  shadows  flitted  before  her  eyes,  so  that  she 
could  scarcely  see. 


96  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

She  thought  she  heard  some  one  addressing  her,  and  listened 
to  hear  what  it  was,  but  only  a  confused  humming,  as  of  bees, 
sounded  in  her  ears,  and  she  knew  nothing  more  until  she 
found  herself  upon  the  bed  with  some  one  bathing  her  temples. 
It  was  her  husband.  He  had  stood  in  the  doorway  behind  her 
screened,  as  he  thought,  from  observation,  certainly  from  hers, 
all  the  time  she  had  been  reading,  with  flashing  eyes  and  demo- 
niacal glare,  reminding  one  of  the  wild,  frightful,  imaginary  pic- 
tures of  the  infernal  one.  But  this  was  not  fancy,  for  it  was  a 
living,  terrible  reality.  When  she  had  finished  and  laid  the 
poems  away,  he  broke  out  with  these  words  :  ' '  Caught  at 
last !  And  is  that  where  you  hide  your  love  letters  from  me  ? 
I  have  long  suspected  that  you  had  a  favorite  correspondent, 
and  now  I'm  glad  I  found  it  out.  An  old  lover,  eh  ?  and  you 
have  stolen  away  to  peruse  his  tender  missives  ?"  And  not  till 
she  had  fallen  to  the  floor  did  he  cease  his  furious  reproaches  ; 
and  then  a  dim  perception  of  something  in  her  appearance 
while  he  had  been  talking  revealed  the  fact  that  she  had  been 
unconscious  of  everything  he  had  been  saying  to  her.  He  took 
her  in  his  arms  and  laid  her  upon  the  bed,  and  applied  restora- 
tives to  recover  her  from  this  death-like  swoon,  after  which  he 
went,  unperceived,  and  slid  away  the  box  containing  the 
papers,  opened  and  read,  never  wasting  a  moment  until  he  had 
taken  out  each  separate  one  and  perused  it  sufficiently  to  satisfy 
his  mind  that  he  had  been  mistaken.  He  then  shoved  them 
lightly  aside  into  a  niche  near  where  she  had  been  sitting,  as  if 
they  had  fallen  there,  and  took  his  station  again  at  her  bedside. 

When  she  revived  she  desired  to  get  away  somewhere  from 
this  sense  of  suffocation — to  the  garden,  she  thought,  and  she 
asked  her  husband  if  she  might  go.  With  a  heart  humiliated 
and  warmed  towards  her  by  defeat,  he  lifted  her  up,  and,  plac- 
ing his  arm  about  her,  led  her  to  a  little  rustic  seat — her  favorite 
resort — under  the  maples,  and  went  away  feeling  chagrined 
that  he  should  pour  forth  such  invectives  on  his  faithful  wife, 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  97 

and  made  up  his  mind  that  in  future  he  would  not  let  his  dia- 
bolical passions  get  so  much  the  mastery  of  him. 

"But  she  did  not  hear  me,"  he  said,  "and  I  am  glad  of  it; 
She  is  a  good  wife,  and  I  know  she  loves  me,  but  I  am  a  bear, — 
worse  than  that — a  born  devil.  " 

Now,  it  was  very  seldom  that  these  glimpses  of  himself  made 
even  a  momentary  impression  or  gave  any  direction  to  his 
outward  manner  ;  and  if  he  had  lifted  up  the  weakest  prayer  for 
Divine  guidance,  of  which  he  had  no  thought,  he  might  have 
been  lead  in  plain  paths  approaching  to  'the  true,  beautiful  life 
of  his  wife  ;  and  together  they  might  have  grown  up  a  harmo- 
nious, perfected  family,  not  only  loved  of  God,  but  respected, 
and  a  blessing  to  all  men.  But  this  was  not  to  be,  for  ere  the  sun 
went  down,  he  was  again  throwing  out  cruel  insinuations  to 
Elice  concerning  her  lovers,  although  he  knew  his  accusations 
were  without  foundation,  as  he  had  proven  conclusively  to 
himself  in  the  mean,  niggardly  manner  he  had  taken  of  testing 
her  in  the  morning. 

Elice  had  been  seated  in  the  garden  but  a  short  time,  when  a 
fawn  leaped  through  the  half-open  gate,  and  rushed  to  her  side 
as  if  for  protection  from  it's  cruel  tormentors.  It  had  been 
wounded,  and  the  blood  was  flowing  freely.  Her  heart  was 
touched  at  sight  of  it's  distress,  and  she  took  cold  water  from 
the  well  and  bathed  the  wound,  and  then  brought  milk  to  feed 
it. 

"Poor  little  thing!  how  I  pity  you!"  said  Elice.  "You 
will  come  and  live  with  me  now ;  I  will  put  this  silver  chain 
about  your  neck,  and  you  shall  eat  out  of  this  pretty  cup." 

The  fawn  answered  by  allowing  her  to  draw  its  head  upon 
her  lap,  and  looking  up  into  her  face  with  it's  soft,  languishing 
eyes  so  full  of  distress  that  it  made  her  hot  tears  flow,  which 
fell  upon  it's  neck,  soft  and  silky  as  the  finest  velvet. 

"My  pretty  dear,"  she  continued,  patting  it  caressingly, 
"here  shall  be  your  home  beneath  this  tree;  you  shall  be  my 
•companion  ;  the  hateful  gash  will  heal,  and  should  I  have  but  a 


98  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

pittance,  you  shall  share  it  with  me."  It  rolled  its  eyes  to  her 
again  like  a  creature  of  reason,  fell  and  expired. 

"  Oh,  why  was  this  !  "  thought  Elice,  again  caressing  it ;  and 
wondered  if  it  was  not  a  premonition  ;  and  felt  that  it  was  in 
some  way  connected  with  her  own  future.  Then  her  mind 
went  forward  to  a  not  far  distant  time,  when  a  pair  of  eyes — 
not  fawn's — not  birdling's,  but  real  human  eyes,  should  look 
out  of  their  depths  into  her  face  ;  when  a  human  form  should 
lay  its  head  upon  her  breast,  its  snowy  arms  encircle  her  neck ; 
and  then  after  a  time,  her  name  lisped  by  rosy  lips  ;  and  already 
she  began  to  feel  a  secret  spring  touched  in  her  heart,  a  mother's 
love  bubbling  forth  from  a  hidden  fountain  of  which  she  had 
never  before  dreamed.  And  then  she  thought,  would  she,  like 
Lola,  find  a  premature  grave  ?  and  her  eyes  turned  to  the  little 
mound  in  the  cemetery,  which  was  visible  from  the  spot  where 
she  sat,  where  the  roses  and  daisies  had  again  commenced  put- 
ting forth  their  blossoms ;  and  she  could  not  help  feeling  that 
it  would  be  so  sweet  to  lie  down  by  her  side  ;  for  her  rest  was 
so  calm,  her  slumber  so  peaceful ;  while  a  thorny,  rugged  way, 
all  untravelled,  she  had  left  behind,  for  a  seat  in  Paradise,  a 
golden  harp,  the  society  of  angels,  and  her  dear  Redeemer. 
And  the  picture  was  not  a  sad  one  to  Elice,  who  had  only  com- 
menced her  journey  through  this  "vale  of  tears;"  had  just 
entered  upon  a  dark  and  gloomy  road,  overhung  by  frown- 
ing precipices,  beneath  which  were  deep  morasses,  slippery 
paths,  and  angry  streams.  But  she  hoped  that,  if  God  should 
call  her  hence,  that  her  child  would  die  too ;  that  they  would 
be  buried  in  one  grave,  and  that  should  be  with  her  dear  ones 
at  home  in  Woodville ;  in  a  quiet  little  nook  by  the  river's  side, 
where  the  white  lilies  sprung  spontaneously,  the  perfume  of 
wild  flowers  greeted  the  senses,  weeping  willows  overshadowed 
the  spot,  and  the  rippling  waves  of  her  favorite  Cohocton 
mingled  its  tones  with  songs  of  the  summer  birds. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  99 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Although  she  had  drifted  down  to  the  Jordan,  so  near  she 
could  see  the  angels  beckoning  her  from  the  other  side;  could 
hear  their  songs:  "  Unto  Him  who  hath  loved  us  and  washed 
us  in  His  precious  blood,"  and  knew  they  were  waiting  to 
receive  her  by  the  gates  that  were  open  wide  to  the  "ever- 
green mountains,"  through  her  spiritualized  consciousness  felt 
the  delicious  Heavenly  breezes  stealing  upon  her  senses,  lock- 
ing them  in  sweet,  mysterious  obliviousness  of  all  earthly 
things.  Yet  she  did  not  die  ;  though  almost  over,  earthly  loving 
ones  weeping,  looking  momentarily  that  "  the  golden  bowl  be 
broken,"  yet  there  were  angels  here,  as  well,  that  held  the 
precious  crumbling  vessel, — her  mother — her  own  true-hearted 
mother,  who  with  faithful  hands  and  loving  prayers,  ministered 
at  her  bedside  by  night  and  day,  scarcely  leaving  it  for  a  mo- 
ment,— a  little  heart  throbbing  against  her  own, — a  rounded, 
dimpled  cheek,  contrasting  strangely  with  the  pearly  whiteness 
of  hers, — a  little  hand  lying  within  her  palm,  a  head  of  glossy 
black,  as  soft  as  eider  down,  and  rosebud  lips  resting  upon  her 
bosom,  wooing  the  life  tide  from  its  outward  flow;  and  for  this, 
for  these,  she  opened  her  eyes  upon  earthly  things,  and  the  pic- 
ture was  more  dear  to  her  mother  heart  than  aught  she  had 
ever  seen  in  earth  or  heaven  ;  and  the  first  words  that  opened 
her  lips  were,  "  Life,  after  all,  is  worth  the  living."  Then  she 
called  for  the  other  little  ones  ;  "  Oh  !  "  she  said,  "  I  had  for- 
gotten, but  I  could  not  go  away  and  leave  these.  I  will  try 
and  live  for  their  sweet  sakes  too." 


IOO  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

Although  she  felt  a  tenderness  for  Lola's  little  orphans  of  which 
no  one  knew,  and  would  have  experienced  untold  happiness 
with  them,  supplying  their  wants,  directing  and  entering  into 
their  childish  recreations,  yet  the  drops  that  fell  from  enven- 
omed tongues  into  their  cup  of  pleasure  made  it  very  bitter  to 
the  taste. 

"  But,"  she  says,  "I  will  drink  it,  for  love  must  sweeten  all 
at  last ;  but  if  it  does  not,  my  duty  is  plainly  written ;  God  has 
given  me  to  be  their  mother,  and  as  I  do  to  them,  so  let  it  be 
done  to  mine." 

One  day  after  she  had  so  far  recovered  as  to  leave  her  bed, 
her  mother  noticing  her  in  a  meditative  mood, inquired,  "What 
is  it,  Elice,  my  darling?"  She  was  about  to  say,  "Oh,  the 
burden  of  life,  mamma!  "  but  for  her  sake  she  threw  off  the 
sad  wistfulness  that  had  settled  upon  her  countenance  and 
replied,  "My  'one  great  thought  was  of  my  jewels.  Oh,  the 
resplendent  gems  in  a  mother's  crown !  Pray  every  day  and 
every  hour  that  God  may  gather  up  each  thread  of  the  lives  of 
my  precious  ones  and  weave  them  into  sunshine.  I  know  you 
will  not  forget  the  '  little  mamma.'  " 

Here  the  tones  of  her  own  voice  thrilled  her,  for  she  realized 
so  much  more  in  that  word  "mamma"  than  she  ever  had  be- 
fore ;  not  so  much  that  the  little  one,  bone  of  her  bone  and 
flesh  of  her  flesh,  filled  it  with  tender  sweetness ;  but  through 
it  were  clearly  revealed  her  responsibilities  and  her  vow,  "So 
let  it  be  done  to  mine." 

The  little  stranger  was  an  angel  to  be  entertained,  at  least  by 
one  of  its  grandmammas — a  gift  from  Heaven;  and  one  hearing 
her  would  think  a  special  shower  of  pet  names  had  fallen  to 
bless  the  darling,  for,  though  ready  with  a  new  one  every  time 
she  looked  upon  the  dear  little  face,  the  supply  seemed  inex- 
haustible. The  other,  looking  out  of  jealous  eyes,  saw  no  at- 
traction in  the  child.  One  day  Mrs.  Woodville  with  great 
pride  and  tenderness  brought  and  laid  it  upon  her  lap  saying, 
"  You  have  not  seen  it  lately  ;  look  at  its  little  face  like  a 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  IOI 

great,  round  pearl  without  a  flaw  upon  it.  Do  you  see  any?" 
"  Wall,  I  dunno  ez  I  do;  p'raps  it'll  be  passable  yet ;  I  hope 
so,  for  Walter's  sake ;  and  I  'spose  Elice  would  feel  proper  bad 
to  see  the  difference  between  it  and  the  other  children."  But 
to  Mrs.  Tattum,  to  whose  house  she  soon  after  repaired,  she 
said,  "Miserable  little  pinched  up  thing.  I'm  so  sorry  for  my 
poor  boy,  for  he  can  never  set  the  store  by  that  one  he  does  by 
Lola's  orphans." 

Now  her  listener  was  of  the  same  mind,  but  changed  it  when- 
ever she  came  into  the  presence  of  Elice,  when  she  said,  "It 
is  the  sweetest  little  thing  I  ever  lay  my  eyes  upon  ;  looks  just 
like  its  mother!"  but  if  Mr.  Clayton  happened  to  come  in 
while  she  was  talking,  —  "Well,  I  don't  know  which  it  does 
look  the  most  like — its  papa  or  mamma;  and  it  don't  make 
any  difference,  for  it  is  pretty — just  as  pretty  as  can  be." 
While  her  daughters  praised  its  eyes,  its  wondrous  growth  of 
hair,  the  dimples  in  its  cheeks,  and  usually  wound  up  by  kiss- 
ing it  several  times,  and  laying  it  back,  as  they  said,  "in  its 
cozy  little  nest  by  the  side  of  its  mamma." 

Elice  was  happy  when,  for  the  first  time,  she  dressed  her 
child,  which  she  named  Robin,  after  the  birds  that  had  cheered 
'her  lonely  hours  so  much  through  the  spring  months  with  their 
songs,  that  she  had  watched  through  the  long,  weary  days  that 
otherwise  would  have  been  gloomy  enough,  at  times,  had  it 
not  been  for  them,  when  she  was  obliged  to  keep  her  room  ; 
when  she  was  alone  with  no  companions  but  these,  with 
nothing  to  break  the  dull  silence  but  their  lovely  notes,  which 
they  seemed  to  pour  forth  with  more  exquisite  sweetness  than 
she  had  ever  heard  before.  And  so  its  baby  name  was  Robin, 
which,  she  said,  could  be  changed  when  it  got  older ;  and  she 
took  it  in  her  arms  and  carried  it  out  to  the  garden,  her  favor- 
ite haunt,  which  she  had  not  been  able  to  visit  for  more  than  a 
month,  not  since  the  morning  her  husband  had  assisted  her  to 
the  rustic  seat  beneath  the  maples.  And,  for  the  time,  she 
believed  she  *as  as  happy  as  any  mother  possibly  could  be, 


102  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

with  her  darling  fast  asleep,  and  watched  it  with  the  fond 
delight  that  no  one  ever  can  experience,  but  a  doting  mother, 
gazing  upon  her  first  born  child — a  comforter  from  Heaven — a 
well  spring  of  inexhaustible  love.  And  silently,  with  no  eye 
upon  her,  as  she  thought,  but  God's,  beneath  an  arbor  of  wild 
grape  and  fragrant  climbing  honeysuckle  that  hung  above  her 
head,  laden  with  its  fresh  blossoms,  she  dropped  upon  her 
knees,  thanking  Him  for  a  happy  deliverance  from  the  perils 
of  her  past  sickness,  dedicating  her  little  one  to  Him,  asking 
Him  to  make  it  a  blessing  to  her,  and  to  enable  her  to  bring  it 
up  in  the  love  and  admonition  of  the  Lord,  and  closed  her 
prayer  in  tones  and  words  so  touchingly  pathetic : 

' '  Oh,  Father,  grant  that  he  may  be, 

When  years  have  winged  their  flight, 
His  locks  of  black  have  turned  to  gray, 
As  spotless  as  to-night." 

When  she  took  her  little  Robin  again  and  went  into  the 
house,  she  felt  stronger  and  better  prepared  for  the  day's  care  ; 
and  she  would  try.  she  thought,  and  throw  off  the  gloomy  looks 
that  hitherto  had  rested  upon  her  countenance,  and  assume 
cheerfulness,  even  though  she  did  not  always  feel  like  it,  and 
meet  her  husband  with  the  old-time  smile  which  his  coldness 
had  entirely  driven  away,  and  take  up  life  anew.  And  she 
went  to  bed  that  night,  feeling  that  He  who  commanded  the 
winds  and  the  waves  and  they  obeyed  Him,  was  able  to  quiet, 
was  able  to  smooth  the  seas  of  sorrow ;  and  so,  with  little 
Robin  upon  her  arm,  she  slept  a  peaceful  sleep,  and  awoke  in 
the  morning  with  the  same  earnest  resolve  to  rise  above  the 
mountains  of  trouble;  to  subject  her  heart,  through  prayer  and 
meditation,  to  a  submissiveness  to  her  lot ;  to  be  doubly  meek 
and  obedient  to  the  wishes  of  her  husband; — "And,  after  all, 
what  a  small  thing  for  me,"  she  thought,  "  compared  to  the 
great  hope  that  fills  my  heart,  that  hereby  I  may  be  the  means 
of  leading  him  into  the  beautiful  paths  I  was  early  taught  to 
tread — the  way  to  Christ." 

Love's  eyes  had  been  forced  to  see  the  utter  selfishness  of  his 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  IO3 

nature,  and  would  have  looked  hopelessly,  but  for  this  one 
light  ahead,  this  one  director,  in  which,  if  prayer  availed  on 
high,  she  would  lead  him ;  but  it  was  a  question  with  her 
whether,  surrounded  by  such  adverse  influences,  she  could  live 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  insure  an  answer  to  her  petitions.  But 
in  one  of  these  struggles  between  faith  and  despair,  a  dear  old 
friend  in  the  church  came  in,  to  whom  she  disclosed  her  lack  of 
trust,  not,  however,  naming  its  object.  "Why,"  says  the 
friend,  ' '  be  sure  you  know  that  God  wills  your  petition.  Is  it 
your  husband  to  be  saved,  or  your  children ; — is  it  anything 
you  might  properly  wish  to  gain ; — anything  you  might  con- 
scientiously work  for,  remembering  always  that  love  is  the  ful- 
filling of  the  law,  then  go  to  God  with  the  assurance  that  you 
are  heard.  But  often,  after  having  done  the  will  of  God,  'ye 
have  need  of  patience  that  ye  receive  the  promise.'  Do  not 
look  for  the  leopard's  spots  to  be  changed  at  once ;  but  I  do 
believe  by  praying  and  waiting  you  may  hope  even  for  that." 

So  after  she  left,  Elice  went  away  to  her  room,  knelt  there, 
and  prayed  as  she  had  never  before,  that  her  husband  might  be 
changed ;  that  a  new  life  might  be  begotten  in  his  soul — a  life 
of  honor,  of  truth,  of  generosity  and  love ;  and  a  sweet  peace 
stole  into  her  heart — the  assurance  of  hope  fulfilled.  But  after- 
noon came  when  her  hope  wavered ;  why,  w.e  shall  see. 

A  poor  forlorn  beggar  made  his  appearance,  and  asked, 
' '  Will  the  lady  be  so  kind  as  to  give  me  a  bite  to  eat  ?  Not  a 
mouthful  has  touched  my  lips  for  these  two  days ;  I  have  been 
sick  and  obliged  to  give  up  work ;  and  I  could  not  make  up  my 
mind  to  die  for  want  of  a  little  bread,  though  I  have  never 
begged  before.  It  is  only  a  short  way  home,  but  I  shall  not 
live  to  get  there  without  something."  And  he  sat  down  on  the 
door-step  exhausted  and  apparently  ready  to  faint. 

"Yes,"  thought  Elice,  "this  is  the  same  old  story,  but  I  do 
not  believe  he  belongs  to  that  class  of  beggars." 

Now  she  had  been  told  never  to  feed  tramps, — that  they  were 
vagabonds  and  thieves ; — that  in  every  instance  she  must  turn 


IO4  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

them  away.  She  had  been  greatly  tried  upon  this  point, 
whether  she  should  heed  her  husband's  commands  and  withhold 
that  of  which  they  had  plenty  and  to  spare,  more  than  they 
could  ever  use,  or  give  to  them  secretly.  Here  was  the  injunc- 
tion: "Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  these,  ye 
have  done  it  unto  me."  And  could  she  turn  away  her  Lord 
and  Master?  This  was  the  form  the  question  assumed  in  her 
mind;  and  so,  while  it  was  pending,  she  occasionally  poured 
her  fragrant  coffee,  and  gave  a  morning  *oll  to  these  poor  out- 
laws, without  her  husband's  knowledge.  But  she  discriminated, 
she  thought,  and  fed  only  those  who  were  really  needy, — and 
secretly,  because  she  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  place  herself 
in  a  position  to  listen  to  his  bitter,  violent  imprecations  on  the 
account. 

As  soon  as  the  beggar  sat  down,  she  hastened  for  a  glass 
of  water  and  placed  it  to  his  lips,  and  then  went  for  a  cup  of 
wine  and  some  chicken.  At  this  critical  moment,  her  husband 
made  his  appearance,  wishing  to  know  who  was  there  on  the 
step,  and  what  he  wanted. 

Tears  sprang  to  the  eyes  of  Elice,  and  she  said,  "  He  looked 
so  pale  and  sick,  I  thought  I  would  give  him  some  breakfast. 
If  I  turned  him  away,  he  might  die  by  the  wayside." 

"Ahem!  little  madam,"  he  said  sneeringly,  "I'm  just  in 
time  to  witness  the  consummation  of  your  good  intentions." 
This  was  but  a  faint  rumbling — precusor  of  a  fearful  storm  of 
wrath.  Taking  the  poor  fellow  by  the  collar,  he  lifted  him  clear 
off  the  door-stone,  and  applied  his  foot.  "  Go,"  he  thundered, 
"  go,  beggar,  vagabond,  or  I'll  have  you  arrested  and  thrown 
into  prison."  And  then  to  Elice,  with  cruel  oaths,  and  threats, 
and  imprecations  upon  her  defenseless  head,  "This  is  the  way 
you  entertain  these  pests  to  society ;  you  squander  upon  them 
my  hard  earnings.  I  will  not  endure  it." 

The  man  arose  from  where  he  had  fallen,  and  staggered,  and 
fell  again  just  outside  the  gate,  from  sheer  hunger  and  exhaus- 
tion, his  great,  shrunken,  lusterless  eyes  portraying  the  agony  of 


. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  IO$ 

his  soul — his  hopeless  condition.  "Oh,  God!"  he  said,  "has 
it  come  to  this  at  last ;  must  I  die  for  the  meagre  pittance  that 
will  keep  soul  and  body  together?" 

Elice  could  endure  his  pleading  looks  no  longer,  but  arose  in 
the  majesty  of  her  womanhood,  and  went  quietly  to  her  room 
— to  her  private  medicine  chest,  and  poured  a  glass  of  wine 
from  a  bottle — the  gift  of  her  mother  the  last  time  she  had 
seen  her,  which  she  had  placed  in  her  hand  'with  these  words : 
"This  is  the  pure  juice  of  the  grape;  use  it  whenever  you  are 
sick,  my  pet;" — and  humorously,  "It  will  be  more  tasteful 
when  you  remember  the  sun  of  Woodville  sweetens  your  cup." 

With  it  she  took  some  water  which  she  sprinkled  upon  his 
face  to  revive  him,  and  then  held  the  wine  to  his  lips  and  told 
him  to  drink  it  all.  He  obeyed  her  mechanically,  and  this  pure 
invigorating  draught  warmed  in  his  veins  and  gave  him  strength. 
She  then  took  from  her  pocket  a  handful  of  small  coin, — and 
this,  too,  a  portion  of  a  gift  from  home,  and  the  very  last,  and 
which  she  had  intended  to  lay  out  in  something  nice  for  the 
children.  "  But,"  she  thought,  "  he  needs  it  more  than  they, 
and  he  shall  have  it  to  provide  for  the  remainder  of  his  jour- 
ney." 

She  was  not  mistaken  in  her  estimate  of  the  man.  He  was 
a  gentleman  in  the  truest  acceptation  of  the  word,  as  her  ac- 
quaintance with  him  afterward  proved.  He  thanked  her,  and 
left  with  an  inward  prayer  for  God's  blessing  upon  her  and 
hers. 

Under  no  other  circumstances  could  Elice  have  gone  contrary 
to  the  wishes  of  her  husband;  but  led  by  the  impulses  of  her 
generous  nature,  and  the  commands  of  God,  written  upon  her 
heart,  and  flaming  out  like  fire  upon  a  consecrated  altar,  "As 
ye  would  that  men  should  do  to  you,  do  ye  even  so  to  them." 
And  her  faith  was  so  exalted  at  that  moment  she  forgot,  en- 
tirely, the  wrath  of  her  offended  master,  and  he,  ashamed  of 
himself,  had  stolen  away  where  he  could  see,  unperceived  by 


IO6  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

her,  all  that  she  did ;  seemingly  powerless  to  make*  any  effort. 
Like  a  lion  whipped,  he  had  surrendered  to  the  foe.  More 
than  that,  he  watched  her  with  an  admiration  he  had  never  felt 
before, — not  for  the  crown  of  noble  daring  that,  like  a  halo, 
encircled  her  brow;  but  simply,  he  had  been  beaten — conquered. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  IOJ 


CHAPTER  XXL 

A  boy  made  his  appearance  at  the  door  of  Mr.  Clayton's 
residence ;  he  had  no  hat  on,  nor  shoes,  and  was  very  poorly 
clad.  He  held  in  his  hand  a  bunch  of  flowers,  composed  of 
marigolds,  poppies,  nasturtiums,  and  peonies.  Bridget,  who 
answered  the  bell,  after  looking  reprovingly  at  the  little  beggar 
lad  for  daring  to  come  in  at  the  front  entrance,  asked  him  what 
he  wanted. 

He  dropped  his  head  on  his  breast  and  said, 7 'Please,  ma'am, 
and  will  some  one  buy  my  flowers  ?  " 

Her  heart  softened  at  once  when  she  saw  his  tears  and  heard 
the  sad  tones  of  his  voice.  "P'r'aps  thin  the  ladies  inside  will 
take  them  ;  will  yez  come  in  and  see?" 

She  then  conducted  him  into  a  room  where  Minnie  Tattum 
and  Mrs.  Clayton  were.  Minnie  laughed  so  loudly  when  she 
saw  the  child  and  knew  his  errand,  that  he  dropped  his  eyes  to 
the  floor,  while  his  face  at  first  crimsoned  and  then  turned  very 
pale,  and  he  started  to  leave  the  room. 

"  How  ridiculous  !  "  said  Minnie,  "what  made  you  suppose 
one  would  buy  these  weeds?  Why,  I  pull  all  such  from  my 
garden  and  throw  them  away." 

"Come  back,  dear, "  said  Mrs.  Clayton,  "and  tell  me  all 
about  it;  why  you  wish  to  dispose  of  those  flowers  which  are 
quite  pretty  and  favorites  of  mine." 

"  I  thought  you  never  prevaricated." 

"Neither  do  I  mean  to,  Minnie  ;    those  flowers,  indeed  look 


IO8  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

beautiful  to  me,  for  they  take  me  back  to  the  earliest  recollec- 
tions of  my  childhood — to  the  days  of  my  dear  old  grandmother, 
whose  garden  was  full  of  them,  and  I  have  ever  felt  a  love  for 
them  since.  Where  did  you  get  them,  my  boy?  What  made 
you  think  to  bring  them  here  ?"  said  Elice,  patting  him  on  the 
head. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,  guess  the  angels;  you  see  my  mother 
is  sick,  and  we  are  both  starving.  She  taught  me  to  ask  God  for 
what  I  wanted,  and  so  I  asked  him  for  bread.  Then  I  thought 
about  these  pretty  flowers  and  maybe  I  could  sell  them.  They 
are  nice,  ain't  they  ?  I  heard  you  say  so  ;  won't  you  buy  them  ?" 

"  Don't  you  believe  a  word  he  says,  for  he  is  making  it  up," 
said  Minnie.  "  Now,  did  you  ever  hear  such  a  pretty  story  from 
such  a  small  boy?  Where  do  you  live?  What's  your  name? 
Ain't  you  telling  us  a  big  lie  ?" 

"  I  ain't  told  anything  but  the  truth,"  the  boy  said  meekly. 

"I  believe  you,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Clayton,  "and  I  will  go  with 
you  and  see  your  mother.  Will  you  accompany  us,  Minnie  ?" 

"  Why,  yes,  to  be  sure.  We  will  take  little  Robin  and  have 
a  jolly  time." 

"  A  basket  of  fruit,  some  bread  and  butter  and  wine. " 

"  You're  a  ministering  angel !  I  wish  I  were  half  as  good,  and 
yet,  I  don't  believe  in  following  up  these  worthless  vagabonds ; 
let  them  take  care  of  themselves.  But  I'll  go  with  you  just  for 
the  adventure.  Perhaps  I'll  get  an  item  for  my  book — don't 
look  so  incredulous,  for  authorship  runs  in  the  family.  My 
grandfather  was  an  own  cousin  to  Sir  Walter  Scott,  ha  !  ha!" 

"  What  was  his  name  ?"  said  Elice  smiling. 

"I  don't  remember,  but  mother  knows." 

"Och!  Donnelly,  shure,  thin,"  thought  Bridget,  not  forget- 
ting the  relationship  that  lady  claimed 'to  herself.  "I  guess 
yees  can  match  her  for  telling  a  whoppin'  story." 

"You  have  never  seen  any  of  my  manuscript,"  continued 
Minnie.  "  I'll  bring  it  over  and  read  it  sometime." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  ICQ 

"We  must  hasten,  or  the  poor  woman  may  die,"  answered 
Elice,  sadly,  not  heeding  the  remark. 

"Oh,  fie  !  die?  I  presume  we  shall  find  no  such  woman  as 
the  boy  represented.  It  is  certainly  a  sin  to  be  so  credulous. 
Now  you  believe  all  the  pretty  stories  these  beggars  tell  you — 
too  lazy  too  work,  while  they  live  by  just  such  people  as  you 
are." 

"  I  can  discriminate,  and  it  is  necessary  so  to  do.  I  never  yet 
was  deceived  ;  while  many  of  them  are  as  you  represent,  there 
are  more  worthy  of  your  assistance.  '  Be  not  forgetful  to 
entertain  strangers,  for  thereby  ye  may  entertain  angels  una- 
wares.' " 

"  Harbor  thieves,  who  would  pick  your  pockets." 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  give  them  an  opportunity  to  take  any- 
thing from  me,  and  if  I  did  I  should  not  fear  it.  I  believe  it  is 
our  duty  to  help  the  needy,  to  relieve  the  sick,  to  encourage 
the  down  trodden  and  oppressed  by  kind  words  and  a  portion 
of  our  means.  We  know  not  how  soon  the  wheel  of  fortune 
will  turn  with  us,  and  if  we  disobey  the  commands  of  God  in 
neglecting  to  administer  to  the  afflicted,  he  will  visit  us  in  judg- 
ments." 

' '  Poh  !  where  is  there  a  man  more  prosperous  than  Mr. 
Walter  Clayton  ?  and  he  never  gave  a  cent  in  all  his  life  to  a 
pauper,  and  it  is  not  at  all  likely  he  ever  will.  Just  look  at  his 
houses,  farms,  and  money  at  interest !  I  only  wish  I  had  one 
tenth  of  his  income  ; — wouldn't  I  wear  diamonds  and  point 
laces?  Oh,  how  I  wish  I  were  rich  !  " 

"  You  would  then  give  a  portion  to  the  poor  ?  " 

"I'd  give  them  a  wide  berth, — they  don't  trouble  me  now, 
and  they  wouldn't  then.  Whew,  how  hot  it  is !  we've  walked 
a  mile  I  do  believe ;  well,  there's  the  hut,  and  there  are  more 
of  those  lovely  flowers  you  love  so  well.  What  would  Mr. 
Clayton  say,  if  he  saw  us  here?  He  wouldn't  give  the  woman 
a  penny  to  save  her  soul,  »and  you  would  divide  the  last  cent — 
more,  give  all  you  had  and  go  without  yourself.  Well,  he's  the 


I IO  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

sensible  one,  after  all ;  he  looks  out  for  number  one,  and  that's 
the  way  to  do." 

A  wild  shriek  rent  the  air ;  then  piteous  moans  fell  upon 
their  ears,  while  they  heard  the  words :  ' '  Mamma,  oh,  my  mamma 
is  dead !  "  which  came  from  the  lips  of  the  lad  who,  hurrying, 
had  arrived  some  time  in  advance  of  them  at  the  house. 

They  passed  to  the  bedside  as  quickly  as  possible  and  strove 
to  revive  her,  hoping  she  had  only  fainted ;  but  all  to  no  avail ; 
life  was  indeed  extinct. 

"What  do  you  think?"  said  Elice,  her  eyes  brimful  of  tears. 

"  It  is  a  sad  sight!  I  must  have  the  air,';  Minnie  replied,  and 
immediately  passed  out  of  the  hut  into  the  garden. 

Elice  consoled  the  child  as  best  she  could,  but  he  would  not 
be  comforted. 

"How  I  wish  I  could  give  him  a  home!  "  she  thought, — 
"yes,  every  poor  little  boy  and  girl  in  the  country.  Oh,  for 
the  means  to  rear  asylums  for  these  creatures  of  starvation ! 
Not  the  idlers,  the  loafer,  nor  tramps  that  infest  the  land  like 
locusts, — but  poor  unfortunates,  the  old  and  infirm  ;  and  they 
should  have  nice  homes,  comfortable  rooms,  and  books  and 
pictures ;  the  sick  should  have  delicacies,  attention,  and  com- 
panionship ;  and  I  would  like  to  see  that  their  wants  were  sup- 
plied ;  no  poorhouse  with  its  insufficiency  of  food,  its  lack  of 
ventilation,  its  cruel  taskmasters  which  are  sometimes  found." 
And  then  she  shuddered  when  she  drew  the  picture,  lest  some 
of  her  loved  ones  might  become  inmates  of  these  gloomy 
prison  walls ;  but  oh,  she  hoped  not ;  she  would  willingly  go  to 
service,  if  necessary,  to  keep  them  from  it, — she  would  do  any- 
thing rather  than  see  them  obliged  to  ask  alms. 

The  doctors  came  and  held  a  post  mortem  examination  and 
said  she -came  to  her  death  by  starvation.  And  it  was  not  in 
the  city,  but  a  by-way  hut  in  the  country — just  in  sight  of 
waving  grain,  fields  of  corn,  and  acres  of  potatoes.  Too  proud 
to  beg,  too  conscientious  to  steal,  unable  to  work,  and  so  she 
had  died  for  the  lack  of  nourishment. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  Ill 

"Dear  little  fellow,"  said  Elice,  pushing  back  the  flaxen 
curls  from  the  child's  forehead  and  imprinting  a  kiss, — "how 
much  like  your  mamma  !  " 

' '  Oh,  oh,  ray  mamma — mamma — and  will  she  never  come 
back  to  me?" 

She  drew  his  head  upon  her  bosom  ;  showered  it  with  tears, 
while  she  repeated  these  beautiful  lines: 

"  Mother,  come  back  from  the  echoless  shore; 
Take  me  again  to  your  heart  as  of  yore." 

"I  know,"  she  added,  "sweet  child,  your  grief  is  bound- 
less, which  I  gladly  would  assuage."  And  then  she  breathed  a 
prayer  so  touching,  to  the  God  of  the  fatherless  for  that  poor 
orphan  boy  so  suddenly  bereft  of  this  last  earthly  friend. 

"Isn't  she  beautiful?"  said  Minnie, — "fit  for  the  model  of  a 
statuary.  A  very  princess  in  this  disguise — these  rags.  Do 
you  notice  the  material  of  this  once  lovely  dressing  gown?  'tis 
of  the  finest  satin.  Who  is  she?  Where  is  she  from?  I'd  give 
much  to  know.  Here  is  a  letter, — look  at  the  superscription. 
May  we  read  it?  It  will  give  us  some  clue,  perhaps,  to  this 
poor,  unfortunate  woman." 

' '  Oh,  yes,  read  it — read  it — for  my  mamma  said^'twas  to  her 
papa  way  over  the  waters ;  that  may  be  he  might  forgive  her 
and  send  us  something,  or  come  for  us  and  take  us  away ;  'twas 
just  for  my  sake  she  did  it,  for  she  was  going  to  leave  me  soon  ; 
she  was  going  to  a  beautiful  place  up  yonder" — pointing  to 
the  sky, — "and  then  she  gave  me  this  little  locket  with  this 
pretty  ribbon,  and  said,  '  Tie  it  round  your  neck,  put  it  in  your 
bosom,  Sammie, — never — never,  part  with  it.'  You  may  see 
it;  but  don't  take  it  from  me,  will  you  ?  " 

' '  What  else  did  she  say  ?  ' ' 

"  Oh,  that  it  was  a  likeness  of  herself  before  she  ever  saw  my 
papa ;  and  she  was  so  sorry  that  she  ever  did  see  him — then  she 
might  be  living  in  a  lovely  castle  over — over  the  Atlantic." 

From  an  outburst  of  generous  sympathy,  from  enthusiasm, 
Minnie  grasped  the  locket,  and  kissed  the  miniature  again,  and 


112  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

again,  exclaiming,  "  '  A  very  divinity  of  .charms.'  Who  ever 
saw  a  person  half  so  lovely?  Fair  young  creature!  little  did 
she  know,  at  that  time  of  squalid  poverty, — but  the  letter  :" 

"  MY  DEAR  PARENTS:  Can  you — oh,  will  you,  forgive  me? 
My  only  crime  has  been  worshiping  '  at  an  earthly  shrine, ' 
and  not  heeding  the  kind  admonition  of  friends  who  knew  so 
much  better  than  myself.  But  'tis  past.  I  would  not  burden 
you  with  my  griefs,  nor  a  recital  of  wrongs  inflicted  by  him 
who  lured  me  from  my  beautiful  home  of  peace  and  plenty  by 
his  syren  songs  of  devotion,  which  fell  upon  my  ears,  entranc- 
ing my  soul  like  sweetest  strains  of  music — yes,  yes,  it  was  all 
the  comfort  I  had;  for  I  had  only  been  gone  a  short  time  before 
remorse  seized  me  for  so  bold  an  act,  and  I  desired  above  all 
things  to  retrace  my  steps  and  throw  myself  into  your  charit- 
able arms,  and  beg  you  to  receive  me.  But  then  it  was  that 
the  bird  of  hope  and  love  nestled  in  my  bosom  and  warbled  its 
sunniest  notes,  tightening  the  fibres  of  my  heart  which  was 
breaking  for  my  loved  ones  left  behind,  and  wooed  me  on — on 
— away — so  far  away,  from  them  over  the  trackless  waste  of 
waters — the  great  Atlantic  ; — as  Theodric  Rathbun  said  we  were 
only  safe  from  my  father  when  the  great  deep  rolled  between 
us.  But  he — my  husband — is  dead,  and  I  am  dying  of  want 
and  starvation.  I  ask  nothing  at  your  hands  for  myself,  for  I 
am  not  deserving ;  but  it  is  for  my  child  who  is  so  soon  to  be 
left  in  this  strange  land  alone — my  blessed,  beautiful,  darling 
Sammie,  the  sole  companion  of  all  my  lonely  hours — whose 
sweetness  and  attention  have  held  already  the  threads  of  my  life 
together  for  a  long  time.  I  am  forgiven  of  Heaven — say,  oh, 
say  I  may  have  your  pardon,  for  these  words  of  comfort,  like 
golden  light,  will  illumine  my  tomb. 

"I  hope  to  live  to  receive  an  answer  to  this  missive,  and  believe 
God  in  his  love  will  spare  me  till  succor  comes  to  my  poor 
innocent  boy,  who  weeps  night  and  day  with  his  heart-broken 
mother.  Your  loving  daughter, 

FREDERICA  RATHBUN." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  1 1  3 

"Her  people  probably  never  knew  her  fate,"  said  Elice, 
"this  letter,  tattered  and  torn,  blotted  and  tear  stained,  she 
repented  likely  having  written,  and  made  up  her  mind  not  to 
send  it." 

"  Here's  a  book,"  said  the  child,  "I  found  under  the  trees 
in  the  garden.  My  mamma  lost  it  there,  I  guess." 

It  was  an  old  diary,  the  name  of  the  owner  with  date  on  the 
fly-leaf.  Turning  over  its  pages  they  read  with  the  great- 
est excitement :  ' '  Morning — Never  dawned  a  more  lovely  day ; 
never  such  wild  conflict  raged  within  my  breast.  Which 
shall  conquer,  duty  or  love  ?  My  proud  old  father  has  driven 
Theodric  Rathbun  from  his  house  and  forbidden  my  speaking 
to  him — but  he  is  my  idol ;  to  hear  his  voice,  to  know  he  is 
near  me,  to  listen  to  his  oft-repeated  tale  of  love,  is  dearer 
to  me  than  all  Count  Parloe's  wealth.  Shall  I  stay  where 
even  the  flowers  are  a  mockery  ?  for  do  not  their  buds 
open  leaf  by  leaf,  and  revel  in  the  sunshine,  while  a  drapery  as 
black  as  night  overshadows  my  life  ?  The  rippling  of  the 
waves  of  the  beautiful  Thames,  upon  whose  glassy  surface  I 
have  taken  so  much  delight,  only  speaks  to  me  of  buried  hopes. 
I  see  it  from  my  window — the  little  boat  which  but  a  month 
ago  bore  us  away  on  a  pleasure  ride,  when  we  both  were  so 
happy — so  happy.  My  parents  have  been  kind — never  lived 
truer  friends.  My  sisters  and  brothers  love  me,  I  know ;  but 
they  are  opposed  to  Theodric — and  so  I  shall  bid  them  all 
good-bye. 

"Evening — Come  to  my  aid  precious  tears,  nor  blister  upon 
my  aching,  bleeding  heart,  for  to-morrow's  dawn  will  find  me 
far  from  all  my  darlings,  save  one,  for  whose  sweet  sake  I 
would  fling  my  jewels — all — all  to  the  winds,  and  pass  through 
life  a  beggar,  only  so  to  quaff  the  air  he  breathes,  to  share  with 
him  his  fate,  be  it  for  name  and  fortune  or  the  reverse,  it's 
enough.  This  is  a  magnificent  old  castle;  my  room  is  not 
equaled  for  grandeur ;  its  pictures,  statuary,  books,  birds  and 
flowers  were  bought  at  fabulous  prices  ;  but  at  night  it  is  my 


I  14  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

prison,  for  here  I  am  locked  in  for  safe  keeping,  and  watched 
by  day.  My  brain  is  on  fire !  I  see  a  loop-hole  for  escape  ;  I 
clutch  at  it.  Haste,  Theodric !  Haste!,  and  we'll  away  ere 
the  morning  breaks.  Holy  Saints  !  Here  he  comes  !  Can  I 
steady  myself  to  descend  that  ladder?  Once  with  him  I  am 
the  happiest  of  mortals.  Poor  boy  !  how  he  has  risked  his  life 
for  my  sake  !  How  still  it  is !  Not  a  breath  of  air,  spund  of 
ripple,  nor  a  bird  note.  The  birds  are  asleep.  Good-bye,  my 
sweet  little  pet  canaries,  mocking-birds,  orioles.  How  glad 
am  I  you  cannot  speak  !  for  now  you  will  not  inform  on  me. 
I  leave  you  and  forever — everything  I  leave  for  him — for  him 
— adieu  !  adieu  ! — so  soon  will  'fade  o'er  waters  blue.' 

"Oh,  agony!  Could  I  only  steal  to  my  mother's  chamber, 
clip  but  a  lock  of  her  silver  threads,  imprint  one  kiss  upon  her 
precious  lips — but  no,  no,  'twould  awaken  her.  But  there  he 
is ! — my  Theodric  on  the  top  round  of  the  ladder,  and  awaits 
me  !  My  treasure  !  My  all  !  Ready ;  wherever  he  leads  I 
will  follow." 

"  I  could  cross  the  ocean  to  know  more  of  her, "  said  Minnie, 
"I  would  like  to  adopt  the  child.  Will  you  go  with  me, 
Sammie  ?  " 

Elice  saw  that  the  poor  woman  was  respectfully  interred  in 
the  little  cemetery — Wild  Rose  Glen. 

Minnie  took  Sammie  home  with  her  and  plead  with  all  elo- 
quence of  words  that  she  might  keep  him,  picturing  in  strong 
language  the  merits  of  her  protege — not  forgetting  to  speak  of 
his  noble  lineage,  of  which  she  had  no  reason,  after  what  she  had 
herself  seen,  to  doubt  Her  mother  acquiesced  in  her  plans,  but 
her  father  said,  "I've  enough  lazy  young  ones  around  already  to 
support,  and  you  can  send  the  brat  to  the  poorhouse  for  all  of 
me.  I'm  not  one  o'  the  kind  that  runs  after  kings,  nor  queens, 
nor  none  o'  their  relations.  I  don't  alwers  have  jest  what  I 
want  myself  and  I  have  to  work  pesky  hard  for  what  I  do  git." 

Minnie  coaxed,  then  pouted,  and  finally  declared  he  should 
stay — she'd  give  him  half  of  her  allowance,  and  if  that  was  not 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  I  I  5 

enough,  go  begging  for  more ;  that  her  father  was  a  very  mean 
man  to  turn  up  his  nose  at  this  lovely  little  boy,  and  wouldn't 
wonder  if  he  got  to  be  a  beggar  himself — in  a  low  tone, — didn't 
care  much  if  he  did. 

But  it  was  at  last  decided  that  he  should  remain  with  them 
until  another  place  could  be  secured,  which  was  sufficient 
excuse  for  Mrs.  Tattum  to  circulate  again  a  subscription  paper 
— "  For  this  dear,  little,  destitute  boy,  bereft  so  young  of  both 
his  parents,  for  which  I  and  my  family  are  doing  so  much, 
and  for  whom  we  are  all  willing  to  make  great  sacrifices." 

And  so  she  collected  enough  to  dress  him  very  comfortably, 
while  she  replenished  once  more  her  private  purse,  which  those 
extravagant  daughters  could  soon  empty,  do  as  she  might,  she 
said;  which  end  satisfied  her  conscience  about  the  means  she 
took  to  fill  it. 


Il6  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

"Elice,  what  does  this  mean?"  said  Walter  Clayton  very 
angrily,  handing  her  a  paper  and  pointing  to  the  article  entitled 
"Death  by  Starvation,"  in  which  was  a  full  account  of  the 
incidents  named  in  the  preceding  chapter,  which  wound  up  by 
speaking  laudingly  of  Mrs.  Walter  Clayton  and  Miss  Minnie 
Tattum,  who  were  present  and  gave  so  much  assistance  in  this 
terrible  hour  of  agony  and  distress ;  particularly  of  the  poor 
little  boy  left  to  the  charities  of  strangers  ;  that  must  have  died, 
had  it  not  been  for  the  timely  succor  rendered  by  these  estim- 
able ladies,  who  would  care  for  him  until  a  good  home  could 
be  elsewhere  secured. 

"Now  all  this  is  true,  I  suppose?  Mrs.  Tattum  is  telling 
that  you  took  a  wagon-load  of  provisions  to  the  house,  and 
other  things.  How  is  that?  Why,  you'll  beggar  me  and  my 
children  by  your  extravagance — you've  pauper  on  the  brain 
and  no  mistake,  for  I've  heard  that  you  let  none  of  this  class 
pass  without  feeding  them." 

Elice  did  not  reply ;  she  feared  to  speak  while  her  husband 
was  in  this  terrible  state  of  excitement,  lest  anything  she  might 
say  by  way  of  explanation  would  only  be  as  fuel  added  to  fire. 

"  Do  you  hear  me ?  Have  you  nothing  to  say?  Haven't  I 
told  you  to  let  this  low-born  class  alone  ;  that  you  only  encour- 
age them  in  idleness  and  vice  by  any  assistance  you  render 
them  ?" 

"I  could  not  resist  the  pleadings  of  that  sweet,  innocent  boy; 
supposing  it  had  been  Charlie?" 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  117 

"  Charlie — Charlie — he'll  never  come  to  want,  for  I  shall 
train  him  up  to  industrious  habits,  and  to  take  care  of  himself." 
Then  waiting  a  few  moments,  biting  his  lips  to  suppress  his 
wrath,  he  said,  "Bridget  must  leave  this  house  to-day." 

'  'My  faithful  servant !  for  what  ?  " 

"  Helping  you  with  all  your  deviltry  and  keeping  it  sly  from 
me.  Now,  I  have  been  told,  and  on  reliable  authority,  that 
you  and  she  are  in  the  habit  of  feeding  all  the  worthless  pau- 
pers that  make  their  appearance ;  which,  when  questioned 
about,  she  stoutly  denied." 

"She  never  gave  a  crust  of  bread  to  my  knowledge,  for  she 
is  too  conscientious  to  appropriate  a  farthing's  worth  that  does 
not  belong  to  her." 

"I  see — I  see,  you  stand  up  for  each  other;  I  don't  believe 
a  word  either  of  you  tell  me.  I  was  going  to  let  her  stay  till 
she  finished  up  your  washing,  as  I  see  she  has  commenced,  but 
if  I  hear  you  take  her  part  once  more,  I  shall  dismiss  her  this 
evening." 

"Oh,  Walter!  what  will  the  children  do?  She  thinks  so 
much  of  them,  and  takes  such  good  care  of  the  little  darlings!" 

"I  don't  care  what  they'll  do,  nor  you  either;  she's  got  to 
go  ;  and  when  I  get  another — if  I  do  at  all — it'll  be  one  that 
won't  be  all  on  one  side — that'll  tell  me  what's  going  on  in  the 
house.  Now,  I  hear  lots  of  things  more  than  you  think  for 
about  you,  madam.  Well,  of  course  Bridget  must  know  all 
about  it,  and  when  I  come  to  ask  her  she  says,  '  Tis  false ;'  and 
'That's  not  so;'  and  'People  have  been  speaking  untruths' — 
when  it's  herself  that  tells  falsehoods.  And  another  thing — 
that  Minnie  Tattum  that  used  to  book  me  more'n  all  the  rest, 
has  been  plastered  up  by  your  sweet  tongue,  and  set  up  I 
s'pose  by  you,  till  she  keeps  everything  to  herself  now,  and 
makes  out  to  folks  that  you  are  a  clear  angel,  and  I — well — 
everything  but  a  good,  kind  husband,  as  you.  know  I  always 
have  been,  Elice.  I'll  give  her  a  piece  of  my  mind  about 
things,  and  she'll  have  to  stay  away  from  here,  after  this,  too." 


Il8  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

"  I  am  so  sorry  that  you  are  so  credulous.  We  can  never 
live  happily  while  you  believe  everything  that  is  told  you.  I 
did  not  know  I  had  so  many  enemies."  ; 

"  I'm  glad  I've  friends  enough  to  tell  me — oh,  I  know  every- 
thing ;  but  here,  on  this  book  you  pretend  to  love  so  well,  your 
Bible,  you  swear  you'll  never,  in  no  way,  give  assistance  to 
these  detestable  vagabonds  that  live  on  charity,  either  in  town 
or  out,  and  I'll  keep  Bridget  and  make  up  once  more,  and  let 
Minnie  come  here  if  she  wants  to — no,  I  won't,  for  she's  got 
to  be  such  a  mischief-maker  and  tattler  I  will  not  have  her 
around." 

"  '  Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters,  and  it  shall  return  to 
thee  after  many  days. '  I  must  do  my  duty  as  I  see  it,  or  have 
the  displeasure  of  God." 

"  Cast  your  bread  to  a  dog,  and  he  will  bring  a  dozen  with 
him  next  time  he  comes,"  answered  Walter,  and  left  the  house. 

He  had  only  been  gone  half  an  hour  before  Minnie  Tattum 
surprised  Elice,  by  rushing  into  her  presence  in  the  deepest 
state  of  excitement,  her  great  black  eyes  flashing  wrathfully  like 
some  hunted  panther. 

' '  Your  husband  is  a  devil !  Mrs.  Clayton,  how  you  can  live 
with  him  and  ever  expect  to  be  a  Christian  is  beyond  my  com- 
prehension. I'd — why — I'd — What's  the  matter  with  you,  poor 
soul !  You've  been  crying!  he  said  he'd  been  giving  you  a  bless- 
ing for  your  tricks  ;  but  let  me  tell  you  my  story.  He  came 
along  just  a  minute  ago — I  had  started  to^go  into  the  house — 
he  called  me.  I  turned  around  and  said  pleasantly,  'Good 
morning,  Mr.  Clayton,'  and  he  never  answered  to  it,  but  angrily 
exclaimed,  '  See  here,  young  woman,  I  want  you  to  stay  away 
from  my  house  after  this,  setting  my  wife  up  to  all  sorts  of  mis- 
chief and  coaxing  her  off  to  look  up  paupers.'  I  thought 
instantly  of  our  many  conversations  and  your  good  advice — that 
when  I  felt  my.  temper — my  dreadful  temper — getting  the  mas- 
tery of  me,  to  lift  up  my  heart  to  God,  and  he  would  help  me. 
I  guess  'twould  have  been  all  right  if  he  hadn't  said  any  more  ; 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  119 

but  just  at  that  moment,  when  I  was  trying  to  pray  that  I  might 
answer  him  calmly,  Sammie  ran  to  the  front  door  and  called  my 
name — O  Mrs.  Clayton  !  our  dear  beautiful  child,  dressed  so 
sweetly  and  looking  just  like  an  angel — you  remember  what  you 
said  about  '  entertaining  angel's  unawares  ? '  and  he's  one  if  there 
ever  was  one — then  Mr.  Clayton  spoke  up  and  said,  'Is  that  the 
dirty,  little  scullion  there  has  been  so  much  fuss  about  for  the 
past  week,  and  that  you  and  Elice  are  taking  care  of? '  Oh  ! 
ho  !  ho  !  didn't  the  hot  blood  dance  in  my  veins,  while  all  my 
prayers  went  straight  out  of  my  heart ;  and  all  I  desired  or 
thought  of  was  strength  to  give  Walter  Clayton  a  black  eye ; 
and  I  stepped  up  to  him  with  my  fists  doubled  up.  '  See  here 
Mr.  Clayton,'  I  said,  '  I'd  like  well  to  level  you  and  grind  you 
under  my  feet !  If  I  were  your  wife  I'd  sew  you  up  in  a  sheet 
when  you  got  soundly  sleeping,  and  whip  you  to  death  ;  for  I 
would  'prefer  to  be  hanged  than  to  live  with  you,  if  the  law  took 
cognizance  of  the  crime,  which  it  would  not,  as  it  would  only 
be  ^ridding  the  world  of  a  public  nuisance  ! '  Two  mountains 
of  wrath  had  come  together,  spitting  and  pouring  out  red 
hot  lava ;  he  was  "too  mad  to  answer  me,  but  I  thought 
for  a'"  few  moments  he'd  eat  me ;  when  he  turned  on  his 
heel  and  went  off  swearing.  Don't  waste  your  breath  any 
longer  on  me,  for  it's  no  use.  I'm  certainly  ashamed  of 
myself,  but  am  satisfied  that  prayer  will  do  for  cool  heads 
like  yours,  but  not  for  hot  ones  like  mine.  It's  only  an 
offense  to  heaven  and  punishable  as  a  great  sin  committed 
against  God — a  mockery,  for  he  has  said,  'Thou  shalt 
not  take  the  name  of  the  Lord  thy  God  in  vain,  and  if, 
while  I  am  calling  upon  Him,  everything  wicked,  as  in  this 
instance,  runs  through  my  mind,  I  am  certainly  one  of  this 
class  and  will  not  be  found  guiltless.  So  save  your  prayers, 
which  I  know  are  well  meant,  for  those  of  whom  there  are 
hopes,  but  not  for  such  a  sinner  as  I." 

"It  was  for  just  such  that  Christ  died;  you   surely  are  not 
worse  than  the  thief  on  the  cross." 


I2O  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

' '  I  believe  I  am  ;  for,  while  he  never  made  any  pretensions 
to  piety,  I  have  belonged  to  the  church  for  years ;  and  when  I 
should  have  been  a  burning  and  shining  light,  am  only  a  stum- 
bling block,  and  scarcely  understand  the  first  principles  of  relig- 
ion ;  only  this  I  know,  that  a  church  should  be  as  a  city  built 
on  a  hill — and  what  influence  for  good  have  I  exerted?  I  am 
wilful,  revengeful,  with  feelings  that  could  almost  annihilate  a 
person  that  stands  in  the  way  to  keep  me  from  gaining  an  ob- 
ject I  desire ;  and  yet,  I  am  put  forward  as  a  teacher  of  those 
dear,  tender  buds,  who,  if  they  knew  me  as  I  am,  would  have 
but  very  little  confidence  in  me  or  the  doctrine  of  the  blessed 
Book  that  I  endeavor  to  explain.  I  believe  I  will  give  the 
whole  thing  up — leave  the  church,  for  I  am  not  worthy  to  be- 
long ;  and  then,  if  lost,  will  not  drag  so  many  to  perdition  with 
me." 

She  then  rested  her  head  upon  her  hands,  while  tears  com- 
menced to  trickle  down  her  cheeks.  Neither  spoke  for  a  few 
moments — then  Minnie  broke  the  silence  by  adding: 

"Mrs.  Clayton,  some  are  born  good;  they  have  no  such 
passions  as  mine  to  contend  with — Vina,  for  instance,  has  no 
inclination  to  sin,  while  Augusta  and  myself  are  full  of  evil. 
Her  hopes  and  desires  only  run  in  a  right  channel,  so  it  is  no 
trouble  for  her  to  be  a  Christian.  Now,  why  does  God,  who  is 
said  to  be  no  respecter  of  persons,  deal  so  unfairly  ?  giving  her 
one  of  the  sweetest  of  tempers,  a  love  for  the  lowly  path  of 
holiness,  a  character  so  Christlike,  that  shines  out  beautifully 
through  all  the  daily  walks  of  life,  to  which  the  rest  of  the 
family  could  never  aspire,  even  through  prayer  and  tears." 

' '  The  desert  may  blossom  as  the  rose.  Where  barrenness 
prevails,  there  may  be  fruitfulness.  The  highway  is  within 
the  reach  of  all,  and  when  we  really  have  a  desire  for  holiness, 
then  God  will  baptize  us  with  his  spirit  and  transform  our 
natures,  so  that  which  we  once  loved  we  would  then  hate.  Do 
not  despair,  dear  Minnie  ;  there  are  yet  hopes  for  you  in  the 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  121 

precious  blood  of  the  Redeemer,  who  came  not  to  call  the 
righteous,  but  sinners  to  repentance." 

"God's  promises  are  not  for  me,"  she  said,  weeping  more 
bitterly,  and  left  the  house. 

"Dear  girl,"  thought  Elice,  "she  is  under  the  deepest  con- 
viction for  her  sins ;  if  she  could  only  see  the  precious  balm 
extended  by  the  Divine  Master  who  died  for  her  as  well  as  all 
the  rest  of  mankind  ;  but  she  will  go  to  the  ball  chamber,  the 
theatre,  any  place  of  amusement,  perhaps  this  very  night, 
where  the  voice  of  her  conscience  will  be  hushed  by  their  fes- 
tivities." 


122  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 


j  CHAPTER  XXIII. 

If  the  conversation  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clayton  were  a  subject 
of  anxiety  to  them,  they  had  a  listener  to  whom  it  was  none 
the  less  so.  Bridget  had  heard  all  his  plans,  and  the  tears  and 
prayers  of  Mrs.  Clayton,  begging  that  she  might  remain  ;  which 
latter  had  quite  as  much  to  do  in  influencing  her  objections  to 
going  away,  as  her  own  interest ;  and  this  involved  so  much  to 
her — no  less  than  home-leaving,  and  separating  again  from 
friends,  as  these  were  all  she  had  known  after  having  left  her 
own  in  "swate  Ireland." 

Moreover,  she  had  a  certain  regard  for  Mr.  Clayton — a 
loyalty  as  against  the  world ;  would  always  defend  him,  unless 
at  times,  to  excuse  his  own  wrong  doing,  he  had  thrown  the 
blame  upon  those  whose  interest  was  identical  with  his  own — 
upon  the  altogether  guiltless. 

" There  be  places,  sure,"  said  Bridget,  "but  where  will  I 
find  anither  sich  a  misthress?  Where  be  one  like  herself,  the 
darlint? — wid  come  and  sind  me  abed  wen  my  head  be  nigh 
onto  bustin  wid  the  ache  thot's  in  it,  and  doctor  me  up  so  swate 
like  ?  and  when  I  be  bether  to  come  again,  to  find  ivery  thing 
ran  hither,  I  niver  do ;  but  the  kitchen  as  bright  as  a  bran  new 
pan,  bless  her  thin !  and  the  children — Holy  Saints  bless  all 
their  swate  souls  !  "  And  here,  breaking  down  with  sobs,  she 
dropped  upon  her  knees  where  she  stood,  and  pored  over  her 
prayer  book,  and  counted  her  beads  until  midnight. 

When  morning  came,  she  found  it  necessary  to  do  something 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.    •  123 

more  than  bathe  her  eyes  to  remove  the  tell-tale  traces  of  her 
last  night's  vigils. 

"  It  be  half  an  hour,"  she  thought,  "till  the  time  I  be  risin 
ivery  morn.  I'll  wet  this  bit  of  cotton  as  the  misthress  do  fur 
me.  and  lay  it  ferninst  my  two  eyes  and,  sure,  the  masther'll 
niver  know  that  I  be  sheddin  tears  afther  lavin,  and  he  niver 
shall  at  all — at  all !  " 

When  she  arose  Jthe  second  time,  she  found  the  delicate, 
thread-like  vessels  that  had  distended  the  eyelids,  emptied  of 
their  surplus  blood,  for  which  again  she  raised  her  eyes  upward 
and  said,  "  Blessed  Virgin,  now,  and  always  be  wid  and  bless 
the  daire  wise  misthress.  Och !  she  knows  ivery  thing,  indade 
she  do." 

Thus  closing  her  ejaculatory  prayer  and  praise,  she  went 
down  about  her  daily  labor,  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

In  this  last,  long  conversation  between  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clayton 
in  reference  to  Bridget,  she  repeated  instances  of  her  faithful- 
ness, and  told  him  how,  never  sparing  herself,  she  had  given 
soul  and  body  to  their  service ;  and  begged  him,  by  her  love 
for  them  all,  to  let  her  remain.  Wisely  dwelling  upon  her 
fealty  to  him,  she  almost  gained  her  point. 

"  But,  you  know,  she  has  a  terrible  temper,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  but  would  in  nowise  tell  a  falsehood — not  even  to 
screen  herself  from  blame." 

"  But  would  do  anything  to  help  you  out  of  a  scrape;  see 
how  she  lied  about  those  tramps.  I'll  have  no  man,  woman, 
or  child  about  that  will  not  tell  all  that's  going  on  in  this 
house! " 

"  You  may  bring  one  here  who  will  tell  you  untruths." 

"  I  will  look  well  to  that.  I  know  a  girl  who  will  answer  our 
purpose  much  better  than  Bridget,  who  has  been  here  quite 
long  enough — so  long  she  has  become  independent  and  saucy." 

Though  his  reply  was  direct  and  sharp,  yet  there  was  the 
least  something  in  his  voice,  that  gave  signs  of  his  relenting ; 
that  in  his  inmost  soul  he  had  been  made  to  know  he  would 


124  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

never  find  another  faithful  soul  like  Bridget — another  so  capable 
of  rendering  them  intelligent  service. 

But  when  his  wife  said,  ' '  She  is  always  pleasant  to  the  chil- 
dren, and  never  spoke  to  me  unkindly,"  his  relaxed  features 
took  again  a  harder  look  than  ever,  and  he  replied,  in  tones  of 
the  most  insolent  wrath,  "That's  it,  now — just  it,  and  shows 
she  is  in  league  with  your  deviltry !  She's  ugly  and  cross 
enough  to  me,  God  knows !  " 

"  Never,  unless  you  fly  into  a  passion  and  abuse  her  without 
cause." 

"  You  stand  by  her  and  she  stands  by  you — I  see  !  I  see  !  " 
and  here  he  arose  and  paced  the  room,  looking  much  like  a 
madman  who  needs  to  be  confined  in  an  asylum.  Finally, 
turning  to  Elice,  he  said,  "  Madam,  she  shall  go  now,  sure." 
Then  leaving  her,  went  to  the  kitchen  and,  as  Bridget  said, 
"  With  villainous  tongue  bad  me  pack  up  my  duds  and  lave." 

"  What  fur,  thin  ?"  she  inquired. 

"  Why,  for  not  letting  me  know  what  is  going  on  in  the 
house.  If  Elice  whipped  the  children  to  death,  you  would  put 
your  heads  together  and  smother  it  up ;  so,  between  you  both, 
those  poor  little  things  suffer  alive." 

"  Indade  !  "  she  answered,  "  and  what  would  I  be  smudder- 
ing  about  the  wee  bairns  ?  for  it  is  she  that  trates  them  much 
the  likelier  of  the  two,  little  jewels  ;  she  never  kicked  them  till 
they  were  black  and  blue,  and  never  struck  'em  a  blow.  If  ye 
war  half  ,as  dacint  as  herself,  or  the  other  swate  wife,  ye'd  be 
much  the  better  than  ye  be  ;  and  if  ye'd  not  trate  her  like  a 
baste,  she'd  a  been  wid  ye  now,  to  look  after  her  own." 

"  Moses !  Jupiter  !  How  dare  you  insult  me  ! " 

"  It's  no  insult,  nor  no  lie,  but  God's  blessed  truth.  If  it's  a 
lie  I'm  afther  tellin'  yez,  wot  wus  it  thin,  when  yez  good  old 
father-in-law  looked  down  into  the  coffin  upon  the  snow  white 
face  of  his  swate  child  ?  " 

"You  must  get  out  of  this  house,  or-  I'll  help  you  out!  " 

"  But  not  till  I  tell  yez.     The  poor  old   mon  said,  'I  bees 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  125 

happier  now  than  I've  been  in  mony  a  day,  for  she  be  gone, 
swate  one,  where  she  can  get  no  more  abuse.'  He  didn't 
know  that  I  heard  him  ;  and  troth,  I  be  not  the  only  one  that 
did.  If  ye'd  got  divils  instead  o'  saints,  'twould  be  better  fur 
'em,  sure." 

By  this  time  Bridget  had  settled  down  into  a  calmness  that 
nothing  could  move.  Going  quietly  about,  she  gathered  up 
her  clothing,  and  when  all  was  ready  she  visited  the  room  of 
Elice,  which  brought  to  her  dazed  senses  the  first  glimmering 
that  her  faithful  servant,  her  friend,  was  really  about  to  leave 
them.  Having  been  so  accustomed  to  her  husband's  passion- 
ate words,  she  thought  he  would  at  least  allow  her  to  remain  ; 
and  she  could  not  see  why  this  great  infliction  could  be  per- 
mitted. However,  she  accepted  the  situation,  having  faith  in 
the  promise  that  what  we  know  not  now  shall  be  revealed 
hereafter  ;  that  somehow,  forth  from  the  wrath  of  man,  should 
flow  praises  to  the  Most  High. 

While  Bridget  was  taking  leave  of  the  panic-stricken  children 
who,  though  so  young,  seemed  to  realize  something  of  the 
great  calamity  which  this  foreshadowed,  Elice,  with  character- 
istic thoughtfulness,  was  penning  a  short  note  to  her  friend 
Mrs.  Ashton,  commending  her  dear  servant  to  her  care,  until 
she  could  arrange  her  own  household  matters,  so  as  to  be  able 
to  give  personal  attention  to  securing  her  a  suitable  situation. 

The  last  farewells  had  been  said,  and  having  returned  to  the 
kitchen,  she  had  bestowed  a  lingering  look  upon  her  household 
gods  ;  her  feet  were  pressing  the  threshold  as  if  glued  to  the 
spot,  when  Mr.  Clayton  made  his  appeaaance. 

"You  might  have  remained,"  said  he,  "had  it  not  been  that 
you  were  always  taking  sides  with  my  wife,  against  my  interest ; 
otherwise  the  neighbors  are  given  to  fearful  lying,  which  I  do 
not  believe.  You  are  all  for  the  mistress  and  not  at  all  for  the 
master." 

"  I'm  for  the  right,  and  it's  not  meself  that  could  be  guilty  of 
berating  an  innocent  person  ;  and  if  any  one  axes  me,  I  shall 


126  THOSE  ORPHANS,  OR 

tell  them  the  truth,  that  yez  trate  yer  family  like  bastes.  Yer 
nasty  tricks  I've  always  kept,  and  dropped  a  word  of  praise 
when,  had  I  told  what  I  knew,  it  would  be,  yez  never  like  to 
see  them  ate  enough.  The  mistress,  dare  crature,  I  shall  love 
her  thin  till  I  die,  and  if  she  should  iver  want,  it's  me  two  hands 
that  would  work  to  buy  her  bread ;  for  she's  always  been  good 
to  me,  treated  me  like  a  mother.  I'd  die  over  the  washtub  to 
support  her  and  dare  little  Robin  !  " 

Here  her  handkerchief  came  to  her  eyes  and,  breaking  down 
entirely,  she  went  away. 

"Old  fool,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Clayton, "  I'd  like  to  give  her  the 
toe  of  my  boot;  "  then  banged  the  door,  and  locking  it,  went 
to  look  for  Elice,  whom  he  found  trying  to  comfort  the  children. 

"You  can  do  the  work  now,  yourself,"  he  growled.  "You 
are  always  kicking  up  some  bobbery  to  get  me  into  trouble." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Scarcely  a  month  had  passed,  when  Sammie  Rathbun  was 
adopted  into  the  family  of  Professor  Wilmington,  a  teacher  of 
the  languages  in  the  Academy  at  Lavarre  and  his  name 
changed  to  that  of  his  own. 

"  I  am  not  wealthy,"  he  said;  "  can  never,  I  fear,  be  able  to 
leave  the  child  a  legacy ;  but  he  shall  share  equally  with  my 
own  little  daughter.  I  will  carefully  superintend  his  education, 
for  I  see  in  him  germs  of  great  promise." 

It  was  not  long  before  he  astonished  them  with  his  brilliant 
genius ;  especially  his  musical  talent,  and  completely  charmed 
them  by  the  wonderful  sweetness  of  his  voice  as  he  sang  some 
beautiful  little  Scotch  or  Italian  airs,  taught  him  by  his  mother. 

He  would  blow  through  his  fingers,  so  closely  imitating  the 
horn,  that  a  listener  would  think  he  was  playing  upon  one,  pro- 
viding they  did  not  see  the  performer ;  and  it  was  but  a  very 
short  time  before  he  brought  out  the  most  exquisite  music  upon 
this,  as  well  as  other  instruments,  which  no  one  ever  seemed 
to  have  heard  before,  and  which  were  really  melodies  of  his  own 
improvision. 

The  family  fairly  worshiped  him.  He  filled,  to  a  great  extent, 
the  niche  in  the  home  made  vacant  by  the  loss  of  their  darling ; 
and  while  Mrs.  Wilmington  mourned  for  her  own  as  a  fond 
mother  only  can,  she  loved  to  watch  the  lights  and  shadows 
play  upon  his  countenance,  as  she  rehearsed  some  of  the  pretty 
stories  she  used  to  repeat  to  Willie. 


128  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

Sammie  loved  his  new  home,  and,  young  as  he  was,  seemed 
to  appreciate  the  kindness  of  the  family ;  but  oh !  how  often  he 
would  steal  away,  and  wander  back  to  the  hut  or  to  the  grave 
of  his  mother,  who,  he  said,  was  so  beautiful,  and  whose  like- 
ness he  was  continually  tracing  on  slate  or  paper. 

"Now,  don't  that  look  like  her?"  he  would  say.  "  Here  are 
the  curls,  and  here  the  eyes,  just  like  mine ;  but  they  were 
always  so  full  of  tears  !  I  wish  I  knew  what  made  her  cry  so 
much ;  but  we  did  not  have  enough  to  eat,  and  she  wanted  to 
die ;  and  once,  a  good,  long  time  ago,  she  said  she  believed  she 
would  4rown  herself.  And  she  went  out  one  bright,  moonlight 
night,  just  like  now,  and  sat  down  by  the  lake  up  yonder  for 
a  good  many  hours,  and  wrung  her  hands,  and  said, — well,  I 
can't  remember  all  she  said ;  but  she  wished  she  hadn't  been  so 
foolish  to  run  away  from  her  home — her  '  sweet,  sweet  home, ' 
and  she  wished  she  was  back  again  ;  but  her  father  and  mother 
wouldn't  forgive  her ;  and  she'd  just  like  to  be  in  the  bottom  of 
the  lake,  and  would,  if  it  weren't  for  me ;  and  then  she  kissed 
me,  and  kissed  me  as  much  as  a  hundred  times,  I  guess.  But 
she's  up  in  heaven  now,  ain't  she?  I  wish  I  was  there  too, 
with  her." 

Everybody  loved  Sammy ;  he  went  by  the  name,  sometimes, 
of  the  "Lute,"  as  his  voice  resembled  that  instrument;  again 
by  the  "Mocking-bird,"  as  he  imitated  every  sweet  sound  he 
heard.  All  predicted  a  bright  future  for  him.  His  'life  had 
been  rough  thus  far,  they  said ;  but  with  his  talents,  his  dispo- 
sition, energy  and  ambition,  he  was  sure  to  make  his  mark  in 
the  world. 

Three  years  have'passed ;  Sammie's  birthday  has  come  again, 
and  with  it  the  remembrance  of  other  birthdays,  and  the  sweet 
words  of  his  loved  ^mother,  who  was  laid  away  to  rest  where 
the  chilling  frosts  and  winter  snows  would  never  disturb  her. 
Picking  up  his  hat,  he  started  in  the  direction  of  the  cemetery. 
It  was  but  a  few  moments  before  he  reached  the  spot  where,  to 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  I2Q 

his  great  surprise  and  joy,  he  found  a  lovely  monument  erected 
to  her  memory.  Evidently  it  was  that  day's  work ;  on  it  was 
the  simplest  inscription,  "Frederica,  my  beloved  ;"  and  this 
was  all.  He  went  up  to  it  and  looked  it  over  and  over,  when, 
sinking  into  a  deep  niche,  beneath  a  cluster  of  rose  buds,  chis- 
eled in  the  most  delicate  style,  was  the  miniature  of  a  young 
and  lovely  girl,  apparently  sixteen  ;  it  seemed  but  a  copy  of 
the  same  picture  which  he  had  now  in  his  possession,  guarded 
as  closely  as  ever  miser  his  gold. 

"My  mother !"  he  cried,  "my  sweet,  sweet  mother!  "and 
looked  away  as  far  as  his  eyes  could  see,  as  if  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  some  fairy  who,  with  but  a  touch  of  her  magic  wand,  had 
converted  one  of  these  bright,  clear,  shining  pebbles  at  his  feet 
into  that  lovely  stone  that  rested  above  the  remains  of  his 
darling. 

For  weeks  people  gathered  around  the  grave  'of  Frederica 
Rathbun,  so  curious  to  know  the  history  of  the  beautiful  girl 
who  had  so  entranced  them,  as  they  gazed  with  tearful  eyes 
upon  her  sweet  face  nestling  away  beneath  the  finely  chiseled 
flowers,  as  some  lovely  bird  in  its  downy  nest ;  so  deep  it  could 
scarcely  be  desecrated  by  a  wicked,  ruthless  hand.  But  these 
were  the  queries :  "  Who  the  friend  that  loved  her  so  much 
as  to  go  to  the  expense  of  this  work  of  art?  Who  so  wealthy 
in  all  the  country  around  as  to  afford  anything  half  so  elegant." 
All  minds  were  busy  with  their  conjectures ;  but  none  more 
wildly  enthusiastic  than  Minnie  Tattum,  who  declared  she  was 
a  princess  or  daughter  of  some  duke  or  lord  of  fabulous  wealth ; 
and  they  had  sent  this  as  a  token  of  their  love. 

"I  will  find  out  all  about  it,"  she  remarked  to  Elice  ;  "I  can 
never  finish  my  book  without  it." 

"Have  you  learned  anything?" 

"Nothing!  But  that  the  monument  is  Italian  and  sculptured 
in  Rome,  is  evident,  for  it  bears  the  name,  also  that  of  the 
artist.  But  the  purchaser  !  that  is  the  mystery — a  father, 
brother,  or  lover?  I  think  the  latter.  Have  you  seen 


I3O  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

the  statuette  ?  It  is  more  beautiful  than  my  imagination 
could  picture.  Our  protege  is  no  pauper's  brat ;  you  might 
have  known  that  by  his  looks.  I  am  so  glad  we  picked  him 
up.  See  here,  I  have  written  several  chapters  about  this  mat- 
ter, which  I  have  guessed  at  as  being  correct.  I  would  like  my 
story  to  be  true,  but,  if  I  cannot  get  at  the  facts,  shall  substi- 
tute fiction;  but  it  would  be  so  much  better  to  say,  '  A  true 
story,  etc.,  etc.;'  people  would  be  so  moved  by  the  narrative; 
I  do  hope  it  will  make  a  sensation !  Wouldn't  it  be  fine  to 
stand  behind  the  scenes  and  see  folks  crying  at  the  production 
of  your  brain?  " 

"  Pooh!  Nonsense,  Minnie  Tattum,"  cried  her  mother,  rush- 
ing into  the  room ;  "I'll  throw  all  that  heap  of  paper  in  the 
fire.  Do  have  common  sense ;  if  you'd  do  your  sewing  you 
would  please  me  better.  Writing,  writing,  all  day  long,  some- 
thing that  no  one  will  read  ! " 

"O,  mother,  dear!"  cried  Minnie,  jumping  up  and  clasping 
her  arms  about  her  neck,  "You'll  be  a  sorry  woman  some  day 
for  underrating  your  daughter's  abilities;  when  her  name  is 
wafted  by  every  breeze  that  blows  over  land  and  over  seas  ; 
when  the  high  and  mighty  do  homage  to  her  talents — and — 
and—"  : 

"  And  what,  simpleton?"  said  old  Hezekiah,  thrusting  his 
head  into  the  door.  "Let  me  finish  that  pretty  speech. 
When  folks  want  to  know,  who  is  she?  Why,  old  mother 
Tattum's  gossip — that's  who ;  that  laze  abed  in  the  mornin'  till 
breakfast  is  ready,  and  pores  over  novels  a  part  o'  the  day,  and 
gads  the  street  the  rest  o'  the  time." 

"Fair  play,"  answered  Minnie.  "It  would  have  pleased 
you  if  we  had  never  been  sent  to  school,  I  suppose ;  if  we  had 
gone  out  as  servants ;  no  education  yourself,  you  would  like  to 
have  had  all  books  excommunicated  from  the  Tattum  family. 
But  here's  our  mother,  bless  her  big  heart,  that  has  made  the 
ladies  of  her  daughters ;  she  talks  now  and  then,  but  does  not 
mean  a  word  she  says  about  our  wasting  our  time  foolishly  over 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  1 3  I 

Shakespeare's  plays,  Moore's  melodies,  and  Byron's  beautiful 
lays.  But  she's  proud  of  us ;  ain't  you,  '  darlint  ?  ' '  And 
here  Minnie  gave  her  another  kiss,  and  asked  her  if  she  would 
please  waltz  with  her  for  a  little  exercise ;  or,  if  her  father  and 
she  would  step  to  a  tune,  she'd  play  "Fisher's  Hornpipe,"  or 
anything  they  most  liked ;  whereupon  the  old  lady  laughed  till 
she  declared  her  sides  ached,  and  went  out  of  the  room,  leaving 
her  and  Elice  to  continue  their  conversation. 


I $2  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 


.  CHAPTER  XXV. 

A  few  days  pass,  and  Walter  Clayton  enters  his  residence 
accompanied  by  a  servant  girl — a  well-formed,  buxom,  country 
lass,  altogether  inexperienced  in  household  matters,  so  much 
so  that  she  was  unable  to  take  charge  of  the  plainest  baking, 
and  as  for  cooking  a  meal  and  arranging  it  properly  upon  the 
table  without  assistance,  it  was  quite  out  of  the  question. 

"You  will  find  Hettie  a  good  girl,"  he  said,  addressing 
Elice,  ' '  one  who  is  willing  to  do  what  she  is  bidden  ;  and,  bet- 
ter still,  she  will  be  ever  so  kind  to  the  children." 

"  I  hope  so,"  she  replied,  but  sighed  when  she  thought  how 
far  short  she  would  come  of  the  trusty,  efficient  servant  who 
had  just  left  them. 

"You  can  work?"  inquired  Elice. 

"  I  make  out,  but  I  s'pose  I  don't  do  as  well  as  I  might; 
the  fact  is,  mother  never  put  me  to  it,  and  I  can't  wash  nor 
iron,  nuther,  and  I  told  your  man  so,  but  he  said  that  needn't 
make  no  difference  for  you  could  do  it  yourself.  I'm  afraid  I 
won't  suit  you  ;  mebby  I  hadn't  better  stay." 

"Yes  you  will;  what  you  can't  do  may  go  undone,  unless 
my  wife  can  take  hold  and  do  it  herself.  The  little  work  we 
have  is  nothing  but  play,  and  for  the  life  of  me,  I  can't  see 
why  we  need  any  servant.  Only  three  children  and  my  wife 
and  I ;  any  woman  ought  to  do  it,  and  would  if  she  weren't  so 
confounded  lazy!"  said  Walter,  looking  toward  Elice,  "and 
that  is  what  I  expected  when  I  married  you ! " 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  133 

Hettie  was  not  naturally  bad  ;  however,  was  as  plastic  as 
clay  in  the  hands  of  the  potter ;  did  not  mean  to  do  wrong,  but 
she  did,  as  she  said,  because  she  couldn't  help  it.  This  want 
of  resistance  in  her  character  gave  her  a  prey  to  the  designing 
who  were  constantly  leading  her  into  trouble,  when,  to  screen 
herself  from  blame,  she  would,  if  necessary,  tell  the  wickedest 
falsehood.  Consequently  she  became  one  of  the  best  subjects 
the  enemies  of  the  family  could  find  to  aid  them  in  their  plot- 
tings,  and  could  be  bought,  soul  and  body,  with  the  least 
expense. 

She  had  been  there  but  a  few  weeks  when  Mrs.  Tattum  was 
as  well  acquainted  with  her  as  though  she  had  known  her  all 
her  life ;  and  with  blarney  and  smiles,  cake  and  ice  cream,  kept 
her  for  hours,  sometimes,  prying  into  the  affairs  of  the  Claytons, 
and  planning  in  her  own  mind  how  she  should  turn  this  knowl- 
edge to  the  best  advantage. 

She  asked  her  if  Mr.  Clayton  bought  his  sugar  by  the  quan- 
tity, tea  by  the  chest,  coffee  by  the  sack,  and  if  he  did  not 
keep  barrels  of  pork  and  beef  in  the  cellar.  Said  she,  ' '  You 
might  make  nearly  enough  to  buy  you  as  fine  clothes  as  any 
body  has,  without  being  at  all  suspected.  Poor  hired  girls  are 
kept  under  too  much,  and  it  is  no  sin  to  steal  from  your  em- 
ployers ;  it  is  only  taking  what  you  really  ought  to  have.  I 
will  buy  everything  you  have  or  can  bring,  and  will  pay  you 
well  for  your  trouble.  However,  you  must  be  extremely  cau- 
tious, otherwise  you  will  be  caught,  which  would  be  a  very 
grave  offense,  and  punishable  by  the  law." 

Hettie  consented,  although  she  felt  that  she  was  doing 
wrong,  but  stilled  the  voice  of  her  conscience  by  thinking  it 
was  no  harm  to  take  from  this  rich  man,  as  he  would  never  feel 
it.  So  every  week  there  was  filched  from  the  family  stores,  a 
little  of  everything  in  the  line  of  provisions  and  carried  over  to 
the  Tattums  to  be  used  as  quickly  as  possible,  lest  these  arti- 
cles should  betray  them. 

Mr.  Clayton  thought  his  grocery  bills  rather  large,  and   laid 


134  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

it  to  the  extravagance  of  his  wife  and  her  feeding  everybody 
that  came  along ;  so  he  fretted  and  fumed  and  swore  whenever 
he  was  requested  to  bring  anything  to  the  house.  He  said, 
"  You  will  surely  bring  me  to  ruin,  Elice,  if  you  keep  on  being 
so  wasteful ;  will  have  us  all  in  the  poorhouse  at  last." 

"  I  have  had  all  the  sewing  to  do,  as  you  know,  and  Robin 
has  been  ill  so  I  could  not  pay  the  attention  to  Hettie  that  I 
would  like ;  and  you  told  me  she  was  so  honest,  of  course  it 
did  not  seem  quite  so  necessary, "  answered  Elice.  "Hadn't 
the  storeroom  better  be  locked?  then  when  any  article  is 
needed,  I  will  deal  it  out ;  by  this  means  you  can  tell  where 
the  fault  lies." 

"Yes,  I  presume  that  would  suit  you;  but  Hettie  would 
leave  if  this  were  done,  for  it  would  be  a  direct  insult  to  her, 
as  much  as  to  say  she  was  dishonest.  But  as  I  know  her  to 
be  every  way  trustworthy,  I  will  give  her  the  key  and  tell  her 
to  be  very  careful  and  not  leave  the  door  open,  and  then — then 
— well,  I  might  as  well  say  it — you  won't  get  your  fingers  on 
very  much  to  give  away;  for  I  believe  you  know  where  every- 
thing has  gone,  yourself." 

Elice  was  full  of  grief,  as  she  had  been  a  hundred  times  be- 
fore— too  full  for  utterance  ;  and  went  away  by  herself — not  to 
weep,  but  to  think  what  could  be  done  to  remedy  the  evils  that 
were  crushing  out  all  their  pleasures,  and  making  a  foothold 
which,  she  feared,  could  never  be  removed.  She  took  up  the 
Bible  and  opened  it ; — this  blessed  book  had  brought  consola- 
tion in  many  a  trying  hour,  and  it  would  now,  she  thought. 
The  first  words  upon  which  her  eyes  rested  were  these :  "  Cast 
thy  burden  upon  the  Lord  and  He  shall  sustain  thee."  That 
promise  was  sure ;  and  it  was  hers,  for  she  had  felt  its  truthful- 
ness and  power  before.  Again,  "Whom  the  Lord  loveth,  He 
chasteneth,  and  scourgeth  every  son  whom  He  receiveth."  Oh, 
was  it  she  that  He  was  bringing  through  the  furnace  of  afflic- 
tion, to  make  her  better?  She  turned  back  to  Psalms,  where 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  135 

she  read,  "They  that  trust  in  the  Lord  shall  be  as  Mount  Zion 
which  cannot  be  removed,  but  abideth  forever." 

"I  will  not  doubt,  my  Father,"  she  murmured, — "help!  oh, 
help!" 

She  went  about  her  duties  once  again,  cheerfully,  feeling  that 
He  would  take  care  of  all  her  troubles.  "In  His  own  ap- 
pointed time  and  way,"  she  thought,  "my  deliverance  will 
come ;  these  crooked  paths  will  be  made  straight ;  but,  if  not 
here,  in  the  glorious  hereafter;  praises  to  the  most  High 
God!" 

And  here  she  rested  as  a  weary  traveler  that  had  reached  an 
oasis  in  a  barren  desert;  like  him,  she  had  tasted  of  sweet 
waters  gushing  freely  amid  burning  sands,  and  her  soul  was 
soothed ;  and  she  had  gathered  strength  to  take  up  the  staff 
anew  and  go  on  her  journey,  striving  to  endure  everything 
that  was  heaped  upon  her  defenseless  head,  in  a  spirit  of  meek- 
ness, feeling  how  much  better  it  was  to  suffer  than  to  do  wrong. 

A  few  weeks  passed  ;  Mr.  Clayton  came  into  the  room  where 
Elice  was  and  sat  down. 

"How  do  you  like  Hettie?  "  he  enquired.  "  I  think  her  a 
splendid  girl,  and  capable  of  doing  more  than  I  thought.  I 
don't  believe  anything  goes  to  waste  now,  nor  slides  out  in  any 
shape.  She  says  she  is  very  particular  to  keep  the  store  room 
locked,  as  I  told  her,  and  the  windows  all  fastened.  The  truth 
is,  I  have  so  much  confidence  in  her,  I  have  not  paid  attention 
how  things  were  going." 

"  By  refering  to  our  grocery  bill,  you  must  know  all  about 
it ;  is  that  satisfactory?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Haven't  thought  to  look  it  over  since  she 
came,  not  feeling  in  the  least  worried,  for  Mrs.  Tattum  and 
mother  both  give  her  an  extra  good  name  ;  and  I  am  so  glad 
she  has  more  than  borne  out  the  report  of  her.  Steal  !  by 
no  means ;  she  would  not  take  a  farthing  that  did  not  right- 
fully belong  to  her.  I  thought  I'd  test  her:  I  was  counting 
over  my  money  one  evening  and  dropped  a  dollar  bill — did  it 


I  36  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

purposely,  of  course  ;  she  noticed  it  in  an  instant,  and  called 
attention  to  my  carelessness,  as  she  thought,  and  established  her 
reputation  for  honesty  with  me.  If  you  had  found  it,  you 
would  have  kept  it,  and  as  much  more  as  you  could  have  laid 
your  hands  upon." 

Elice  did  not  reply  to  this  insulting  remark,  nor  did  she  tell 
him  of  the  bits  of  ribbon,  silk,  velvet,  etc.,  too  numerous  to 
mention,  that  this  servant  had  managed  to  purloin  from  her 
drawers,  for  she  felt  he  would  not  believe  it;  and  further, 
thought  he  might  learn  a  good  lesson  yet,  from  his  misplaced 
confidence ;  that  God  himself  would  teach  him ;  yet,  how,  she 
could  not  see.  It  would  all  be  right. 

In  a  few  evenings,  Walter  came  to  the  front  door,  and  found 
it  locked.  He  rang  the  bell  furiously,  when  Elice  hastened  to 
open  it.  In  great  rage  he  demanded  the  cause  of  its  being 
barred  against  him.  "You  never  care  how  much  you  trouble 
me — why  do  you  keep  so  closely?  " 

"This  was  one  of  your  orders,  you  remember,  papa,  long 
ago,  and  I  have  fulfilled  it  ever  since,  as  I  felt  it  was  necessary 
for  the  safety  of  the  house. " 

Her  words  were  lost,  however,  or  the  most  of  them,  as  he 
went  straight  through  into  the  kitchen,  knocking  over  every 
chair  that  came  in  his  way,  catching  up  the  cat  and  tossing  it 
through  an  open  window,  and  taking  up  a  poodle  on  the  toe  of 
his  boot  and  sending  it  quite  into  the  street ;  while  Charlie  and 
Blanche  ran  for  the  bed-room,  and  only  felt  safe  when  they  had 
hidden  under  the  bed,  wondering  what  was  the  matter  now. 

"  I  have  just  heard,"  he  said  to  Hettie,  "that  those  children 
are  abused,  and  shamefully,  right  before  your  face  and  eyes. 
Why  did  you  not  inform  me  of  this?" 

"Who  told  you?" 

"Mrs.  Tattum,  who  said  she  got  her  news  from  you." 

She  was  about  to  say,  "  She's  an  old  liar  ;  "  but  remember- 
ing their  confidences,  replied,  "  I  do  not  recollect  having  said 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  137 

any  such  thing,  and  had  rather  not  be  questioned  any  more 
about  it." 

' '  Why  do  you  wish  to  keep  this  a  secret  from  me  ?  I  pay 
you  good  wages,  and  you  ought  to  appreciate  it.  Do  you 
know  what  Bridget  was.  sent  away  for?  Simply  because  she 
kept  everything  to  herself,  and  under  no  circumstances  informed 
on  her  mistress." 

Hettie  hesitated;  it  was  not  a  correct  statement  of  matters 
that  he  wanted.  If  she  told  him  the  truth,  he  was  far  less 
liable  to  believe  her  than  a  falsehood;  and  she  did  not  wish  to 
lose  his  good  opinion,  so  replied,  "  I  might  have  said  as  much, 
but  it  was  so  long  ago  I  don't  remember.  What  did  Mrs. 
Tattum  say  about  it?" 

"That  Mrs.  Clayton  kept  the  children  all  one  day  in  that 
dark  cellar- way,  never  giving  them  a  mouthful  to  eat,  and  prom- 
ised them  a  whipping  if  they  informed  me.  She  heard  their 
cries  herself,  and  mother  was  passing  that  very  day,  and  thought 
she  heard  them  sobbing;  and  was  very  sorry  she  had  not  come 
in  to  look  after  the  poor  little  things." 

'•'Ask  the  children." 

"Don't  play  up  Bridget  Donnelly  with  me  now,"  he  said 
angrily;  "but  answer  me  at  once." 

"It  was  true." 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  before?" 

"  You's  gone  so  long,  I  forgot,"  she  answered  petulantly. 

He  then  found  Elice  upon  whom  for  one  full  hour  he  poured 
a  continued  volley  of  abuse,  swearing  and  raving  like  a  mad- 
man, finally  saying,  "  Were  it  not  for  the  law,  I  would  horse- 
whip you  ! " 

The  moment  she  found  an  opportunity,  she  answered,  "Call 
the  children,  and  ask  them  if  such  a  circumstance  ever  occurred." 

He  questioned  them  closely:  "Why,  no,  papa,  when  did 
mamma  do  that?  " 


138  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

"  Are  you  so  afraid  of  that  woman  that  you  dare  not  speak 
.the  truth? " 

"No,  thir,  I  ain't  afraid  of  my  dear,  good  mamma!" 

"Well,  then,  tell  me  all  about  it,  or  I'll  shut  you  up  in  the 
cellar- way  myself,  and  whip  you  to  death  in  the  bargain." 

"Yeth,  she  did,  I  geth.      I  don't  remember." 

Frightened  by  his  manner,  little  Blanche  did  not  know  what 
to  say,  so  told  a  falsehood,  but  not  intentionally. 

"A  precious  good  thing  for  you,  little  lady,  that  you  owned 
it.  Now  will  you  let  me  know  hereafter  when  your  mother 
misuses  you?" 

"Yeth  thir,"  she  answered  in  a  trembling  voice. 

Turning  to  Elice,  he  said,  "Now,  what  about  it?  Oh,  dear, 
I  wish  I  had  never  seen  you ;  to  think  I  should  bring  a  devil 
into  the  house  to  take  the  place  of  their  angel  mother ;  it  is 
more  than  I  can  endure ;  and  I  will  not  much  longer,  you  may 
depend  upon  it!  " 

After  her  father  had  gone,  Blanche  threw  her  arms  about  her 
mother's  neck,  and,  with  sobs  and  tears,  asking  for  forgiveness, 
said,  "I  did  not  mean  to  tell  a  lie,  but  papa  made  me." 

"I  know,  and  God  knows  all  about  it,  little  one,"  and  Elice 
took  the  child  upon  her  lap,  and  told  her  pretty  stories  to  divert 
her  mind  from  the  painful  subject.  She  then  listened  to  their 
evening  prayers,  and  tucked  them  away  snugly  in  their  little 
bed.  And  as  she  gave  them  the  last  good  night  kiss,  scalding 
tears  dropped  upon  their  upturned  faces. 


THE' TRIALS  OFtA  STEPMOTHER.  139 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

It  is  midnight ;  Walter  Clayton  has  remained  at  the  store  to 
ascertain  how  his  accounts  stand  with  the  firm  of  Clayton  & 
Coon.  It  has  been  three  years  since  he  cast  this  burden  from 
his  mind  ;  but  they  were  now  about  to  close  up  the  business,  for 
a  time,  at  least,  and  it  becomes  necessary  to  turn  his  attention 
again  to  the  subject.  He  looks  over  the  long  columns  of  his 
grocery  bills,  and  wonders  if  it  can  be  true  that  all  of  the  searti- 
cles  could  have  been  consumed  by  his  family. 

Some  of  the  items  were  in  his  own  hand- writing ;  some  in  the 
clerks,  while  others  were  in  the  partner's.  Of  course  there 
could  be  no  foul  play  unless,  indeed,  Mr.  Coon  had  entered 
more  than  was  taken,  to  defraud  him  ;  but  that  was  not  probable, 
for  he  would  not  dare  to  do  it ;  there  was  no  one  to  blame  but 
himself,  if  Hettie  had  got  things  that  were  unnecessary,  or 
more  of  them  than  was  needed,  for  he  had  given  express  com- 
mands, if  she  came  to  the  store  in  his  absence,  to  give  her  what 
she  called  for.  But  no  one  else  was  allowed  that  privilege,  not 
even  his  own  wife ;  so,  if  the  bills  were  large,  it  must  all  be 
right,  for  Hettie  was  as  honest  as  the  day  was  long.  Elice  had 
no  access  to  the  store  room,  therefore  she  had  no  chance  to 
give  away,  to  be  extravagant,  or  to  feed  all  the  beggars  that 
came  along,  for  which  she  had  such  a  terrible  propensity. 

He  proceeded  to  foot  up  the  account — "  Great  God !"  he 
ejaculated,  "can  it 'be  with  all  my  caution,  that  I  am  fifteen 
hundred  dollars  extra  indebted  to  this  firm  for  the  last  over  the 


I4O  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

former  three  years?  is  it  true?  it  is  true,"  he  sighed ;  "here  it 
is,  all  in  black  and  white.  What  can  it  mean  ?  Elice  must  be 
to  blame.  I  wish  I  hadn't  got  married.  Of  course  she's  had 
extra  keys,  and  stole  out  of  the  store  room  ;  she's  always  rais- 
ing the  devil  with  me,  someway;  she'll  ruin  me  yet,  always 
wasting  something,  but  never  doing  anything  to  help  along  in 
the  world.  If  it  were  not  for  my  little  children,  I'd  run  away. 
She's  as  sly  as  a  fox  and  sharper  than  lightning,  or  I'd  catch 
her,  sometimes,  at  some  of  her  tricks.  She  lets  on  to  me  that 
she  is  so  saving,  but  it  is  false  ;  she  is  not — is  not !  Curse  the 
women !  not  exactly  that,  for  there  are  some  good  ones  in  the 
world.  There's  Hettie,  and  she's  pretty,  too ;  but  how  those 
things  could  have  been  taken  and  she  not  know  it,  is  a  mystery 
to  me.  I'll  go  right  home  and  ask  her — put  her  on  the  watch 
the  rest  of  the  night ;  for  it  must  be  done  when  we  are  all  abed 
and  asleep.  Oh!  what  won't  a  treacherous  woman  do?  But  if 
I  catch  her,  she'll  wish  she  had  never  been  born !  I've  half  a 
mind  to  play  spy  on  her  myself;  between  us  two,  she'll  be 
caught,  and  no  mistake ;  if  it  is  not  to-night,  it  will  be  some 
other  time.  I'll  tell  her  we  are  afraid  of  some  one  breaking 
into  the  store,  and  I'm  going  to  sleep  there  all  the  week.  Capi- 
tal !  that's  just  what  I'll  do,  and  she'll  never  mistrust.  I  won- 
der what  the  lady  will  say  when  she  finds  herself  in  my  trap  at 
last." 

He  went  home.  Elice  was  still  up  waiting  for  him.  She 
had  been  cutting  over  some  of  his  old  clothes  for  a  suit  for 
Charlie,  and  had  commenced  making  them  ;  she  showed  it  to 
him,  and  said,  "Do  you  not  think  it  will  look  pretty  well?  I 
have  sat  up  to  get  them  as  far  along  as  possible  ;  for  he  must 
have  them  to-morrow  afternoon,  as  some  of  our  friends  have 
sent  word  they  will  take  tea  with  us.  I  had  hard  work  to  get 
them  out  at  all ;  but  by  management  I  have  accomplished  it. 
Now,  do  not  forget,  and  say,  papa,  that  I  gave  that  suit  of 
yours  to  old  tramps,  as  you  have  sometimes  before,"  smiling 
and  going  up  and  patting  him  on  the  cheek;  "for  you  know 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  14! 

your  own  little  son  will  soon  be  wearing  them ; — but  I  must 
hurry  up  ;  I  will  sit  up  as  long  as  you  do,  and  then  we  will  go 
to  our  dreams." 

"  Go  to  the  d 1!  "  he  replied,  his  brow  lowering. 

Elice  saw  a  cloud  gathering  and  said  nothing  further.  She 
sat  down  to  her  work,  when  she  tried  to  think  what  possibly 
could  be  the  matter;  but  she  had  not  the  remotest  idea. 

He  heard  Hettie  in  the  kitchen,  and  wondered  what  she  was 
up  for  at  that  hour  of  the  night,  and  asked  Elice  if  she  knew. 

"She  has  been  to  a  party,"  I  believe,  "and  has  just  re- 
turned." 

He  hastened  to  see  her. 

"  Do  you  know  why  it  is,  Hettie,  that  our  grocery  bill  since 
you  have  been  in  our  family,  should  so  exceed  that  of  the  for- 
mer three  years?" 

"  I  do  not,  sir;  it  is  none  of  my  business.  I  suppose  you 
have  had  more  to  feed,"  she  replied,  coloring.  "  I  have  taken 
as  good  care  >f  things  as  I  could,  and  if  you  don't  like  my 
style  I  can  go  home." 

"  Why,  now,  don't  be  angry,  Hettie;  I'm  not  blaming  you 
at  all,  unless,  as  I  have  thought  perhaps,  you  have  been  careless 
and  left  your  keys  around  where  other  parties  could  make  use 
of  them — you  know  whom  I  mean." 

This  little  talk  gave  her  new  ideas,  but  they  were  several 
moments  revolving  in  her  mind  before  she  replied.  It  was  a 
grand  opportunity  to  shift  the  loss  upon  Elice,  but  it  would  be 
too  mean  ;  she  did  not  like  to  do  it ;  she  could  steal,  for  she  had 
been  made  to  believe  it  was  no  sin  to  take  whatever  she  could 
turn  to  advantage,  providing  it  came  out  of  Mr.  Clayton  ;  for 
he  would  do  the  same  had  he  the  chance, — not  exactly  that; 
but,  what  was  the  same  thing,  he  would  take  every  advantage 
in  his  power  of  a  lack  of  penetration  in  the  man,  woman,  or 
child — rich  or  poor — to  drive  a  good  bargain;  and,  were  they 
silly  enough,  like  the  poor  little  fly  that  was  enticed  by  the 


142  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

silky  web  of  the  spider  and  was  caught,  it  was  ten  chances  to 
one  if  they  ever  got  out  again. 

Mr.  Clayton  walked  the  floor  uneasily.  Hettie  felt  that  he 
was  waiting  for  an  answer,  but  she  did  not  know  just  what  to 
say;  finally  he  looked  up  coaxingly,  and  told  her  to  tell  him  if 
she  knew  "all  about  things,"  and  it  should  never  go  any  farther; 
if  it  were  as  he  at  first  suspected,  he  would  like  to  know. 

She  feared  to  tell  the  truth ;  and  she  had  not  strength  of  char- 
acter to  resist  the  temptation  longer,  of  shifting  this  loss  from 
her  own  to  the  shoulders  of  an  innocent  party;  so  she  said,  "I 
have  suspected  as  much." 

"Don't  you  know?     Tell  me  the  circumstances." 
"I  have  missed  my  key  very  often  from  its  hiding  place; 
when  I  did,  I  could  hunt  up  another;  after  a  while  I  would  find 
it  again.     Sometimes  I've  seen  ragged  boys  go  away  from  the 
house  at  a  very  late  hour  with  baskets ;  I  didn't  know  what 
was  in  them ;  it  was  after  I  went  to  my  room  always." 
"Of  course  it  could  be  no  one  but  Elice." 
"It  was  she;  but  you've  promised  not  to  tell." 
"I'll  say  nothing  to  her  about  it — but  curse  her!  curse  her!" 
he  muttered,  as  he  went  out  of  the  house  and  on  the  sidewalk ; 
"I  believe  I'll  get  a  divorce." 

It  was  neither  moonlight  nor  starlight;  the  sky  was  covered 
with  black,  floating  clouds ;  now  and  then  a  bit  of  blue  was  vis- 
ible ;  but  it  was  so  dark  a  person  unused  to  the  town  could  not 
tell  in  what  locality  he  was.  But  it  was  not  much  matter  to 
Mr.  Clayton ;  he  knew  every  foot  of  soil  upon  which  he  was 
treading,  for  he  had  traveled  over  it  for  years ;  whether  it  was 
night — pitchy  night — or  daylight  with  all  its  effulgent  charms ; 
whether  a  howling  winter  had  set  in  with  maddening  fury,  or  a 
glorious  summer  had  arrived,  redundant  with  birds,  balmy  zeph- 
yrs and  beautiful  blossoms,  for  he  had  lost,  or  as  good  as  lost, 
fifteen  hundred  dollars,  and  all  by  an  intriguing  wife,  as  he  had 
worked  himself  up  to  believe ;  and  he  wished  he  was  dead. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  143 

"I  might  as  well  be  dead,"  he  said,  "for  what  does  a  man 
amount  to  who  has  to  live  with  such  a  woman  as  that?" 

He  heard  voices.  "Where  am  I?"  he  said  to  himself.  He 
put  his  hand  out  and  touched  a  house.  At  that  moment 
a  faint  light  glimmered  through  a  window,  and  then,  in  a 
moment  was  gone,  but  was  sufficient  for  him  to  tell  that  it  was 
the  residence  of  Tattum.  Two  of  them  were  in  earnest  conver- 
sation about  something ;  and,  as  he  heard  his  own  name  men- 
tioned in  connection  with  that  of  his  servant  girl,  he  thought  it 
was  a  fine  opportunity  to  find  out  what  was  going  on  ;  if  gossips 
were  busy  at  that  hour,  it  must  mean  something,  and  he  was 
going  to  know  all  about  it. 

It  was  one  of  the  daughters  and  Mrs.  Tattum,  that  was 
evident,  for  the  former  said,  "  Oh!  can  it  be,  that  you,  a  church 
member,  and  of  good  standing,  should  connive  with  that  girl  to 
steal  from  the  family  who  have  employed  her  ?  It  is  a  heinous 
sin  ;  and,  when  you  do  such  a  thing,  you  are  directly  violating 
a  commandment — offending  the  master  whom  you  profess  to 
serve  ;  and  if  found  out,  laying  yourself  liable  to  a  punishment 
by  the  common  laws  of  our  country.  Dear  mother,  break  off 
from  your  sins  by  way  of  repentance,  and  never  be  guilty  of  so 
debasing  an  act  again. " 

"  She  brings  these  groceries  in  a  basket  and  leaves  them," 
answered  her  mother;  "and  I  do  not  see  the  harm  to  take  them, 
inasmuch  as  they  come  from  a  rich,  old  man  that  wouldn't  give 
a^person  anything  to  keep  him  from  starving  to  death  ;  it's  all 
right,  Vina,  you've  got  too  much  conscience,  and  it  goes  in  the 
wrong  direction.  Nobody  will  ever  find  it  out,  either,  and  we 
are  poor,  we're  very  poor  ;  and  what  are  we  to  do  ?  " 

"You  pay  Hettie  for  these  things?" 

"Yes,  a  little  something ;  it  don't  amount  to  much,  what  I 
give  her — sometimes  the  girls'  old,  cast-off  flowers  they  have 
worn  on  their  hats  for  several  years ;  then  again,  one  of  their  old 
silks  to  make  over ;  so  you  see  we  live  pretty  well  out  of  it, 
without  costing  much." 


144  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

"Let  this  be  the  last  night  you  ever  do  the  like;  prom- 
ise me,  or  I'll  return  home  to-morrow,  and  never  darken  your 
doors  again." 

"Oh!  don't  take  a  little  thing  like  that,  so  to  heart;  old 
Clayton  is  worth  an  even  million,  and  can  never  feel  it ;  and 
what  do  I  care  if  he  does  ?  Why !  I  come  honestly  by  them  ; 
I  pay  for  them.  I  do  not  go  to  his  house,  and  get  them  ;  and 
am  not  supposed  to  know  they  come  from  there,  either.  Go  to 
bed,  and  go  to  sleep  !  " 

"No,  not  till  you  say  you  have  taken  the  last  farthing's  worth 
you  ever  will,  from  that  servant  girl." 

"  May  be  you'd  like  me  to  swear  to  it?  " 

"Yes,  here's  the  Bible — say  solemnly,  with  your  hand  upon 
this  blessed  book,  that  you  will  never  take,  use  nor  conceal  any- 
thing that  is  not  your  own." 

"  Here  it  goes,  then — I  swear."  Aside  to  herself — "Just  to 
please  you,  little  goose.  Well,  I  believe  I'm  worse  than  what 
I  used  to  be  ;  once  that  would  have  made  me  feel  solemn,  but 
now  I  don't  care!  What's  the  use  of  trying  to  be  good?  some- 
body is  all  the  while  stepping  on  somebody's  toes,  and  every- 
body is  all  the  while  slandering  everybody.  If  you  are  an 
angel,  folks  don't  like  you  any  the  better ;  if  you're  a  devil, 
you  are  respected  none  the  less;  and  I'm  going  to  get  all  the 
good  out  of  the  world  that  I  can,  and  just  where  I  can,  that's 
all  there  is  about  it,  if  I  be  a  church  member.  But  I  don't 
mean  to  be  caught  at  it,  at  all,  mind  that;  Mrs.  Tattum,  don't 
get  caught  at  it ;  "  and  then,  laughing  at  what  she  imagined  her 
own  witty  thoughts,  she  turned  over  in  bed  and  went  to  sleep. 

Mr.  Clayton  was  confounded  at  what  he  had  heard ;  he  did 
not  know  what  to  do.  "Is  it  possible,"  he  said  mentally, 
"that  Hettie  could  do  such  a  thing  as  has  just  been  alleged  to 
her  ?  I  will  go  and  see  her.  May  be  she  and  my  wife  have 
connived  together ;  it  would  be  just  like  Elice,  she'd  do  most 
anything  to  get  a  little  money  ahead ;  and  what  in  the  world 
she  wants  of  it,  is  more  than  I  can  tell ;  what  any  woman  wants 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  145 

more  than  just  enough  to  eat  and  drink,  is  beyond  my  compre- 
hension. Well,  besides  clothes  to  make  her  comfortable,  a 
good  calico  for  every  day,  and  then  a  slick-up  dress  that's  a 
little  better,  and  one  meeting  dress  ought  to  satisfy  her.  I'll 
make  it  warm  for  her  now,  if  she's  helped  to  steal  from  me 
these  past  three  years !  but  then,  it  couldn't  be,  for  old  mother 
Tattum  just  said  that  she  paid  Hettie  in  ribbons  and  old 
dresses ;  and  I  vum  !  my  wife  is  too  high-toned  to  take  any- 
body's old  trumpery,  so  I  rather  guess  she  hadn't  anything  to 
do  with  sending  off  those  groceries.  But  there's  one  thing  she's 
been  to  blame  about,  anyway,  and  she'll  get  a  piece  of  my 
mind  about  it ;  and  that  is,  that  she  didn't  see  to  things  better ; 
and  to  punish  her  I'll  not  get  her  that  new  bonnet  I  promised 
her,  nor  the  children  any  Christmas  presents  either.  Why, 
when  a  new  girl  comes  into  a  house,  it's  a  woman's  place  to 
keep  an  eye  out  on  everything  there,  just  as  we  merchants  do 
when  we  get  new  clerks.  I'd  like  to  see  a  clerk  of  mine  that 
could  take  a  cent's  worth  and  I  not  know  it.  Well,  women  are 
curious  creatures,  and  no  mistake ;  and  my  wife  beats  them  all, 
to  let  fifteen  hundred  dollars  slip  out  of  the  house  and  she  not 
pay  any  attention  to  it,  or  even  know  it !  But  I  guess  the  best 
way  will  be  not  to  say  anything  about  it ;  for  she'll  ask  me 
why  I  took  the  keys  away  from  her,  and  gave  them  to  the  hired 
girl ;  that  she  couldn't  help  her  taking  things,  when  she  had  the 
keys  and  slept  so  near  the  store-room  ;  and  then  she'd  boohoo 
and  cry,  and  that'll  be  all  there  is  about  it.  And  if  I  go  to 
Hettie,  she'll  be  mad  and  get  up  on  her  ear  again,  and  say  she'll 
leave;  and  I  don't  want  her  to  go,  anyway,  for  she's  good  to 
the  children,  say  what  you've  a  mind  to,  and  pretty  too,  and 
generally  pleasant ;  and  I  like  someway  to  have  her  around 
the  house ;  it  would  be  lonesome  without  her,  she's  been  in  the 
family  so  long." 

So  he  made  up  his  mind  he'd  try  to  forget  all  about  it ;  went 
home,  and  in    a  very  kind  way,  told    Hettie  that   he   guessed 


146  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

he'd  take  the  keys,  and  take  care  of  them ;  then,  if  there  were 
anything  missing,  it  wouldn't  be  laid  to  her  ;  he  should  dread- 
fully hate  to  see  an  innocent  person  blamed  for  what  they  were 
not  guilty. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  147 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

"  I'm  afraid  there  is  going  to  be  a  terrible  thunder  storm  !  " 
said  Mrs.  Carlyle  upon  entering  the  residence  of  the  Tattums. 

' '  What !  what !  There  never  was  a  fairer  day,  nor  never 
will  be,"  said  Mrs.  Tattum. 

"  That  is,  if  the  lightning  can  be  drawn  from  the,  clouds." 

"  Oh  !  I  see  what's  up  now ;  don't  keep  me  in  suspense. 
There  is  no  one  around  to  hear  you  ;  go  on  with  your  gossip, 
my  dear,  old  news-bearer,"  Mrs.  Tattum  said,  laughing. 

"Not  quite  so  pointed,  or  you  may  not  hear  what  will  be 
lucky  for  you  to  know." 

"  Nothing  about  me,  I  hope,  nor  my  girls?  they're  always 
getting  me  into  some  scrape." 

"Just  what  you've  helped  me  out  of  many  times,  and  that's 
the  reason  I  came  to  let  you  know  what  was  going  on.  You've 
got  a  pretty  mighty  long  tongue,  you  know,  as  well  as  myself, 
and  in  case  of  any  trouble  arising  therefrom,  any  contest,  you've 
always  been  smart  enough  to  stack  your  cards  and  throw  out 
trumps  to  yourself  and  partner,  sometimes  accompanied  with  a 
V,  or  an  X,  which  brings  you  success  every  time.  Are  you 
prepared  ?" 

"  Why  do  you  keep  mev  waiting?"  Mrs.  Tattum  said  impa- 
tiently, "if  you  have  anything  to  say,  speak  out  at  once.  If 
bad  comes  to  worse,  I'm  ready  for  anything,  and  not  without." 

"You  remember  what  you  and  Augusta  were  saying  the 
other  day  at  our  house  in  the  presence  of  Mrs.  Col.  Thompson  ? 


148  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

— that  Deacon  Smith  got  drunk  sometimes,  and  his  wife  was  an 
old  spinster  before  he  married  her  that  nobody  but  he  would 
have.  Now  you  thought  she  was  such  a  friend  to  you  that 
she  wouldn't  tell,  but  she  did,  and  there  is  a  great  row  about  it ; 
old  Smith  has  been  to  the  minister's  and  told  him,  and  said  if 
you  did  not  go  before  the  church  and  confess  to  the  lie,  he 
should  compel  a  meeting  to  be  called,  and  bring  you  and 
Augusta  forward  to  prove  what  you  said,  which  could  never 
be  done,  for  he  would  never  rest  under  the  stain  of  your  vile 
lips  ;  and  then,  if  they  kept  two  such  busy  bodies — meddlesome, 
mischief-makers  in  the  church,  he  should  call  for  a  letter." 

"Oh,  grief!  my  good  friend,  what  shall  I  do?" 

"I  told  you,  shall  I  repeat  it? — stack  your  cards,  and  throw 
out  trumps  to  yourself  and  partner.  Your  fertile  imagination 
will  tell  you. better  than  I  can  just  how  this  is  to  be  done." 

"But  I  must  first  have  a  partner." 

"  I  am  at  your  service  ;  if  not  sufficient,  another  can  easily 
be  obtained ;  that  will  be  two  against  one." 

"  What  is  your  plan?" 

"  When  Mrs.  Col.  Thompson  is  brought  forward  to  give  in 
her  testimony  against  you,  she  will  probably  be  asked  when 
and  where  the  slander  originated,  and  who  was  present  at  the 
time.  She  will  tell,  and  this  will  give  me  an  opportunity  of  lay- 
ing her  in  a  falsehood  ;  you  then  can  bring  up  that  little  sewing 
woman,  who  was  there — over  the  left ;  between  us  both  she  will 
be  excommunicated  instead  of  you  and  Augusta."  ** 

"Capital !  capital! — what  can  I  ever  do  for  you." 

"I  don't  want  anything  at  all — only— well — if  Augusta 
would  embroider  my  baby  a  suit  throughout,  I'd  be  so  glad."  * 

"  Agreed  !  but  how  lies  the  land  ?  " 

"  All  right  for  you. " 

"Then  you  know?" 

"  I  was  coming  from  prayer  meeting  last  evening — you  re- 
member how  dark  it  was — well,  I  heard  a  couple  just  ahead  of 
me  in  conversation — 'twas  old  Smith  and  his  wife — from  whom 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  149 

I  learned  that  Parson  Gray  favored  you  and  Augusta ;  said  he 
hardly  believed  you  would  be  guilty  of  such  a  thing;  that  you 
had  always  seemed  to  have  a  strong  desire  for  the  'blessed 
cause,'  and  he  considered  it  very  slanderous  to  accuse  ladies  of 
your  standing  in  the  church,  of  so  base  a  thing  as  falsehood. 
Don't  let  it  worry  you,  sister  Tattum,  for  all  will  yet  come  out 
right. " 

"  Have  you  the  cards  ?  You  know  you  put  them  in  your 
pocket  after  we  had  finished  that  game  of  euchre  at  your  house 
yesterday." 

"Why!  why!  look  out!  don't  speak  above  your  breath,  for 
you  know  well  'tis  against  our  creed  to  amuse  ourselves  by  any 
games  of  chance,  but  just  draw  that  bolt ;  we  will  then  be  safe 
from  intruders  and  I  will  shuffle  my  cards,  which  I  brought  pur- 
posely, and  tell  your  fortune.  I  can  do  it  you  know,  as  aptly 
and  truly  as  any  gipsy." 

"What  you  can't  think  of  no  one  can." 

"  Here,  cut  them  now  ;  the  king  of  spades  is  old  Smith — how 
I  hate  him — the  queen,  his  wife,  remember.  I'll  put  you  in 
hearts,  as  I  always  have,  because  you  are  so  large  hearted.  The 
club  woman  is  Mrs.  Col.  Thompson,  and  the  diamond  my- 
self." 

"And  our  minister?     You  forgot  him." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  is  the  king  of  hearts,  and  if  we  don't  see  all 
the  black  ones  in  a  muss,  we  will  steer  our  boats  in  another 
channel.  Well,  look  here,  you  and  I  are  together  surrounded 
by  all  the  light  cards ;  there  is  a  little  trouble  for  us,  but  the 
king  of  hearts,  bless  him,  is  near  to  help  us  out,  while  the  rest 
are  wading  through  fog.  You  see  them  right  in  the  midst  of 
the  ace,  face,  six,  nine  and  ten  of  spades — the  worst  in  the 
whole  pack,  and  I'm  glad  of  it.  I've  been  aching  for  just  such  a 
chance  to  pay  them  off  for  the  way  they  have  treated  me,  and 
now  I've  got  it." 

"  The  trial,  of  course,  will  not  be  till  after  the  donation,"  said 
Mrs.  Tattum;  "can't  you  wait  for  your  suit  until  then,  for 


I5O  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

there  will  hardly  be  time  to  embroider  two,  and  Augusta  must 
present  the  minister's  wife  with  one  for  her  baby,  and  I  —  I  — 
well,  I  must  do  something  handsome,  for  you  know  it  don't 
make  any  odds  how  good  a  person  is  it  tells  on  their  decisions." 

"  And  what  you  do  now  must  tell,  Sister  Tattum  or  — 
maybe " 

"  Spit  it  out ;  cut  my  head  off  or  leave  it  on,  for  the  minister 
is  invested  with  power.  Well,  you  asked  me  if  I  was  prepared  ; 
I  have  just  received  my  rent  money  with  which  those  long 
promised  silks  for  the  girls  were  to  be  purchased;  I'll  give  it  as 
free  as  air,  and  they  must  go  without  until  I  — "  She  was  go- 
ing to  add,  "  am  paid  for  next  quarter's  rent,"  but  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  well  known  voice  of  Hezekiah  who  had  been  now 
some  time  listening  at  the  keyhole,  where  he  heard  the  most  of 
the  ladies'  conversation. 

"  Kin  go  round  with  a  subscription  paper  for  poor  children, 
or  git  into  somebody's  hen  roosts,  and  now  you're  goin'  to  take 
all  my  rent  money — blazes  !  let  me  in  and  quick,  too,  or  I'll  tell 
on  you — you  be  sure!  — then  to  himself,  "  That  woman  o'mine 
gits  herself  into  more  fusses  nor  I  ever  seen  a  body,  but  she 
crawls  out  o'  the  smallest  holes ;  dear,  dear,  I  didn't  think  when 
she's  regrettin'  to  that  old  elder  how  her  husband  was  sich  a 
sinner,  and  she  felt  so  bad  about  his  playin'  keerds,  she'd  do 
the  like  herself.  Talkin'  about  trumps,  she's  one,  that,  Mary 
Ann.  But  blixun  !  why  can't  I  get  into  that  'ere  room  ?  Mary 
Ann!" — shaking  the  door — "you  better,  now,  let  me  in  or  I'll 
push  the  pesky  thing  over." 

"He's  drunk!  I  must  conciliate  him,  or  he'll  rush  into  the 
street  and  tell  all  he  knows,"  said  Mrs;  Tattum. 

"  Well  I'll  go  home,  and  you  hasten,  for  it  will  be  quite  a  puz- 
zle 'now  to  carry  out  all  our  plan  ;  and  if  we  have  old  Hezekiah 
against  us,  still  more  difficult.  Hurry  up,  or  he'll  pull  the  door 
down  ! " 

"Dear  husband,"  said  Mrs.  Tattum  as  soon  as  she  had  let  him 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  15! 

into  her  presence,  ''you  always  were  just  as  good  as  could  be, 
especially  when  any  of  us  got  into  trouble." 

' '  Going  to  give  us  taffy — that  tastes  better  nor  sass — but  go 
on." 

"  Don't  be  foolish ;  you  know  just  all  about  this  piece  of 
business  as  you  heard  all  our  conversation;  we  talked  loud  on 
purpose — or  I  did — now  you  don't  want  us  to  be  disgraced  by 
being  turned  out  of  the  church,  as  we  surely  will  be  unless — " 

"You  kin  stack  yer  keerds." 

' '  Well,  yes,  anything  you  like,  only  so  we're  shrewd  enough 
to  hide  the  cheat." 

"But  I  ain't  going  out  o'  my  vittalls  for  no  donation  to  keep 
yer  to  the  head  o'  the  heap  in  that  ere  church." 

"  But  I'll  promise  if  you  don't  pick  up  a  fuss  in  any  way,  to 
make  it  up — every  cent  that  I  give ;  you've  pretty  good  sense, 
my  dear  Hezekiah,  and  know  'twould  disgrace  your  unsullied 
reputation,  as  well  as  ours,  not  to  see  us  safely  through  this 
terrible  muss." 

' '  Go  your  own  way,  Mary  Ann ;  I  know  o'  three  or  four 
new  porpers  that  you  can  begin  to  clothe  up  to  go  to  the  Sun- 
day school." 

"Now,  dear  Hezekiah,  don't  be  ridiculous !  I  don't  ask  you  to 
help  me  in  any  way,  only  to  keep  your  mouth  shut." 

"Fur  you  know  mighty  well  I  wouldn't  lie  fur  yer — don't 
yer  ?  How  sweet  you  are !  just  like  winegar  and  molasses — ain't 
that  what  they  ketch  flies  with?  it's  good  just  for  the  skercity 
o'  the  article." 

Here  he  staggered  to  the  closet  to  take  another  drink. 
"Well,"  said  he,  "I  should  think  I  were — hie — 'toxicated  if 
't-wa-s-a-n't  I  ne-vr  take  the  s-t-u-ff,  only  fur  med'cin,  and  Mary 
Ann  does  that  h-e-r-s-e-1-f." 


152  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

There  is  a  series  of  meetings  being  held  at  the  church  of 
which  Mrs.  Tattum  and  her  daughters  are  members.  The  cel- 
ebrated Dr.  Adams,  from  New  York,  has  come  to  assist  them 
in  a  revival,  and  there  is  a  great  commotion  in  the  little  town 
of  Lavarre. 

People  who  were  in  the  habit  of  attending  upon  divine  ser- 
vice went  regularly  each  evening,  to  listen  to  the  burning  words 
that  fell  from  this  great  man's  lips ;  not  for  the  good  they 
might  receive  ;  not  that  they  cared  to  be  benefitted  particularly 
by  his  teachings,  but  for  the  same  reason  they  would  go  to 
a  celebrated  play  or  theatre — just  for  amusement,  from  a  curi- 
osity to  hear  what  new  thing  he  would  have  to  say. 

They  were  in  from  the  country  in  large  sleighs  drawn,  some- 
times, by  four  horses ;  and  from  far  and  wide,  wherever  they  heard 
about  the  meetings,  flocked  to  the  church,  filling  up  the  seats, 
then  the  aisles,  next  the  vestibule,  while  hundreds  went  away 
for  want  of  standing-roorn  in  the  great  brick  church,  where  this 
man  would  talk  for  hours  to  the  excited  throng,  striving  to  lead 
them  to  Christ,  first,  by  the  love  that  He  bore  them  in  coming 
to  the  world  to  die  for  them,  His  great  goodness  in  giving  His 
own  life  to  save  perishing  sinners,  then  by  the  tortures  and 
torments  of  hell,  where  they  would  surely  go,  unless  they 
repented  of  their  sins.  And,  as  he  portrayed  the  beauties  of 
heaven,  the  glories  of  that  blissful  place,  to  which  they  might 
all  have  an  entrance,  and  then  the  darkness  of  the  yawning  pit, 
he  seemed  to  move  the  throng  as  though  it  had  been  but  one 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  153 

man  ;  and  many,  when  he  had  finished,  were  ready  to  gather 
to  the  anxious  seats,  kneel  lowly  down,  and  ask  mercy  at  the 
hands  of  their  offended  Judge.  Among  them  was  Hettie;  she 
had  been  as  attentive  a  listener  as  he  had  ;  there  was  no  meet- 
ing that  she  had  not  attended.  She  had  heard  him  read  the 
commandments,  then  take  them  up  one  by  one  and  explain 
them,  dwelling  largely  on  the  sin  of  theft.  She  never  saw  it  in 
the  light  she  did  then,  her  eyes  were  opened,  great  scales,  as 
it  were,  dropped  off;  and  in  an  agony  of  mind  she  was  ready  to 
ask,  "What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved?"  Night  after  night  she 
went  to  the  altar  with  others ;  she  tried  to  pray,  but  the  heavens 
were  as  brass  ;  she  got  no  consolation  from  this  source. 

The  days  dragged  their  weary  length  along.  It  seemed  as 
if  the  clouds  of  perfect  despair  had  settled  over  her  life,  and  the 
fires  of  endless  torment  were  leaping  up  to  consume  her.  "I 
will  go  to  church,  once  more,"  she  said.  "Oh!  if  I  could  but 
have  the  prayers  of  my  dear  mother,  and  her  advice  at  this  crit- 
ical period,  how  glad  I  would  be !  for  I  believe  she  is  a  Chris- 
tian;  I  know  she  is,  for  her  life  and  conversation  show  it." 

The  bells  rang;  she  put  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  wound 
her  way  along,  with  many,  others,  with  whom  it  had  now 
become  a  serious  thing,  to  the  house  of  God,  to  hear  more  of 
the  way  of  salvation.  Mrs.  Tattum  was  among  the'rest ;  Walter 
Clayton  went  also. 

Never  had  there  been  a  more  solemn  congregation ;  and,  as 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Adams  arose,  his  face  beaming  with  love  divine, 
it  seemed  as  though  one  of  the  old  prophets  had  been  sent  to 
earth  to  preach  the  everlasting  Gospel  to  the  children  of  men. 
He  took  for  his  text,  "Confess  your  sins  one  to  another."  He 
said,  if  a  man  wrongs  his  brother  ma,n,  he  should  ask  his  for- 
giveness ;  he  should  not  be  ashamed  to  go  to  him  and  say  he  was 
sorry  for  what  he  had  done.  If  he  had  been  slandering  a  person, 
he  could  not  be  blessed  of  the  Lord  unless  he  confessed  the  sin, 
and  strove  with  all  his  powers  to  undo  the  mischief  that  his 


154  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

wicked  words  might  have  caused ;  that  no  person  could  ever 
enjoy  religion,  if,  after  a  duty  had  been  made  clear  to  him,  he 
did  not  hasten,  with  all  diligence,  to  perform  it ;  that  it  was  an 
obligation  he  owed  his  Almighty  Father  and  Friend,  who  stood 
with  open  arms  to  receive  and  bless  him  when  he  should  have 
done  all  his  will. 

Hettie  felt  that  the  words  would  apply  to  herself,  and  she  re- 
solved that  she  would  be  led  by  the  teachings  of  the  Spirit  ; 
that  then,  perhaps,  the  great  weight  which,  like  a  mountain, 
rested  upon  her  heart  and  conscience,  would  be  rolled  away  ; 
and,  when  invitations  were  again  given,  she  was  among  the  first 
to  seek  the  enquirers'  seat. 

Mrs.  Tattum,  in  the  meantime,  was  all  through  the  congre- 
gation inviting  souls  to  Christ,  trying  to  induce  them  to  go  to 
the  altar  for  prayers.  She  could  talk  well,  that  is,  she  could 
make  a  free  use  of  her  tongue,  and  those  unacquainted  with  her 
thought  her  a  very  pious  soul,  a  zealous  Christian  woman  and  a 
faithful  worker  in  the  vineyard  of  the  Lord.  She  came  forward  ; 
two  young  ladies  from  the  country  following  her,  and  took  her 
seat  by  the  side  of  Hettie.  When  they  knelt,  she  dropped 
upon  her  knees  by  the  side  of  them. 

After  a  season  of  prayer,  the  enquirers  were  invited  to  speak  ; 
the  minister  talked  again  of  the  importance  of  confessing  their 
sins  one  to  another  ;  hoped  there  was  not  one  there,  but  would 
take  up  the  cross — that  was  the  only  way  they  might  ex- 
pect to  be  blessed ;  that  he  would'  not  take  the  time,  himself, 
but  sincerely  wished  he  -would  hear  from  all,  and  then  sat 
down. 

Hettie  was  among  the  first  who  arose.  She  said,  "  I  have  a 
weight  upon  my  soul,  for  I  have  sinned,  and  I  wish  to  take  this 
opportunity  to  tell  the  whole  congregation  all  about  it ;  and,  as 
Mr.  Clayton  is  here,  I  will  this  blessed  moment  crave  his  for- 
giveness. For  the  past  three  years,  I  have  stolen  provisions, 
and  carried  them  in  baskets  to  the  house  of  Mrs.  Hezekiah 
Tattum,  there  to  be  used  by  her  family ;  this  lady  made  me  be- 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  1 5  5 

lieve  it  was  no  sin,  but  I  now  have  my  eyes  opened,  and  I  feel 
that  I  have  committed  one  of  the  most  atrocious  of  crimes — 
theft !  But  what  troubles  me  more  than  all  the  rest,  when 
questioned  by  Mr.  Clayton  in  reference  to  the  missing  articles, 
saying  he  knew  they  never  could  have  been  used  in  his  family, 
I  told  him  his  wife  stole  my  keys  from  their  hiding  place,  went 
into  the  store-room,  and  took  out  those  things,  a  portion  of 
which  she  gave  to  old  tramps  and  sold  the  rest,  all  of  which 
was  a  wicked  lie  !  Oh !  what  shall  I  do  ?  for  this  last  sin  can 
never  be  forgiven  me  !"  And  here  she  broke  down,  and  sat 
down,  sobbing  and  groaning,  as  though  the  bottomless  pit  was 
opening  to  receive  her ;  and  she  felt  there  was  no  escape. 

Before  Hettie  was  fairly  seated,  Mrs.  Tattum  was  making  her 
exit  from  the  front  door ;  she  had  pulled  and  pulled  her  shawl 
all  the  time  she  was  talking,  thinking  to  make  her  hold  her 
peace,  but  all  to  no  purpose;  so  the  next  best  thing  she 
thought  to  be  done,  was  to  make  her  way  home.  But,  on 
rising  from  her  seat,  she  found  her  little  terrier  puppy  had  fol- 
lowed her,  and  taken  up  his  temporary  dwelling-place  in  the 
spacious  folds  of  her  dress.  Unintentionally  she  had  aroused 
him  from  his  slumbers  by  treading  upon  his  toes,  when  he  set 
up  a  howl,  attracting  all  eyes  in  the  direction ;  but  she  hurried 
along,  the  rougher  of  the  men  joking  and  laughing,  one  of  the 
boldest  ones  speaking  out  as  she  passed,  "Come  back,  old 
hypocrite,  and  get  your  dog;"  another  one  actually  humming 
in  a  low  voice,  but  so  she  could  hear,  "  Keyser,  don't  you  want 
to  buy  a  dog." 

Mr.  Clayton,  too,  went  away  muttering  curses  on  protracted 
meetings,  where  people  go  to  make  fools  of  themselves;  and 
resolved  he  would  give  Hettie  a  good  blowing  up  for  raising 
such  a  breeze,  and  getting  up  such  commotion  among  such  a 
crowd  of  people. 

Mrs.  Tattum  passed  out  of  the  church  into  the  street,  into 
the  darkness  of  the  night,  alone  and  unattended.  In  her  great 
hurry  to  get  away  from  the  scene  of  her  dishonor,  she  had  for- 


I$6  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

gotten  her  lantern,  and  as  her  sight  had  become  somewhat 
dimmed  by  age,  she  did  not  make  much  headway  over  the  pave- 
ment, but  slipped  and  slid,  till  at  last,  making  a  misstep,  she 
plunged  headlong  into  a  ditch  between  the  walk  and  the  road. 

"Merciful  heavens!"  she  groaned  as  she  found  herself 
going,  "What  shall  I  do?;"  but  before  she  could  recover  her 
foothold,  she  was  immersed  in  the  mud  and  mire... 

Walter  Clayton  came  that  way  at  the  moment,  and  at  a 
glance  saw  just  who  it  was.  He  bit  his  lips  with  rage,  walked 
the  faster,  cursed  her  for  bringing  so  much  trouble  to  his  house, 
and  stopped  long  enough  to  say,  "You  can  lie  there  and 
drown,  for  all  me.  I  would  not  help  you  out  if  I  knew  you 
would  die ! "  But  the  barking  of  her  little  dog  soon  brought 
assistance,  however :  two  gentlemen  who  of  all  the  world  she 
would  have  preferred  not  to  have  seen  her  in  such  a  dis- 
tressed state — her  pastor  and  another  brother  in  the  church. 
They  had  been  away  on  very  important  business,  on  the  cars, 
and  had  but  a  few  moments  before  returned,  and  thought  they 
would  go  over  to  the  church,  as  they  might  be  in  time  for  the 
conference  and  prayer  meeting  after  the  regular  service. 

"Why!  Sister  Tattum,  is  that  you?"  they  both  exclaimed 
at  once,  after  they  had  got  her  out  of  the  ditch,  and  she  was 
fairly  on  her  feet  once  more. 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  while  she  proceeded  to  spit  out  the 
dirty  water,  "you  see  I  was  taken  with  one  of  my  sick  spells 
while  I  was  in  the  meeting,  and  thought  that  I'd  go  home — oh, 
dear!  oh,  dear! 

They  asked  her  if  she  was  much  hurt. 

"No — oh,  no,"  she  said;  "a  little  jarred,  like;  that  is  all — 
but  only  see  my  terrible  condition  !  "  while  she  picked  chunks 
of  ice  and  mud  out  of  her  hair  that  had  fallen  down,  and  hung 
around  her  neck. 

They  assisted  her  to  her  own  door;  told  her  how  sorry  they 
felt  for  her;  wished  it  would  not  make  her  sick;  and  sincerely 
hoped  it  would  not  frighten  her  away  from  the  meetings. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  I  57 

Hezekiah  meeting  her  in  the  hall,  said,  "It's  good  enough 
for  you ;  no  business  going  off  every  night,  leaving  me  alone, 
and  I  hope  every  time  you  go  you'll  git  the  same  sass  !  " 

In  a  short  time,  Minnie  and  Mrs.  Glenn  entered  the  house. 
As  soon  as  they  discovered  their  mother  had  left  the  church, 
they  followed  her,  but  not  in  time  to  render  her  any  assistance. 
When  Minnie  found  her  mother  was  not  hurt,  she  commenced 
laughing  at  the  ludicrous  figure  she  cut,  and  going  up  and  tak- 
ing hold  of  her,  she  insisted  that  she  was  never  in  a  better  fix  in 
her  life  to  dance  a  jig;  that  it  would  do  her  good,  stir  up  her 
blood,  and  keep  her  from  taking  cold. 

Mrs.  Glenn  sat  down  and  wept,  simply  saying,  "O,  mother 
dear,  you  did  get  caught  after  all !  '  the  way  of  the  transgressor 
is  hard.'  'Man  proposes  but  God  disposes.'  I  trust  you  have 
learned  a  lesson  that  will  last  you  all  your  life." 

There  was  great  excitement  the  next  day  about  the  revela- 
tions of  the  past  evening,  as  well  as  the  accident  that  occurred. 
It  was  in  the  newspapers,  and  little  boys  had  commenced  selling 
them  before  it  was  hardly  time  to  be  up  in  the  morning. 

Mr.  Tattum  was  an  early  riser,  and  generally  had  five  cents 
tucked  away  in  one  of  his  pockets  with  which  to  buy  a  paper. 

"Hello!  my  man,  you  see,  if  you  git  here  the  fust,  I'll  take 
yours;  so  hurry  up,"  he  said  to  one  of  the  many  boys. 

The  first  thing  upon  which  his  eye  rested  was  this,  headed  in 
large  letters : 

"  SHOCKING  ACCIDENT ! 

"Mr.  Hezekiah  Tattum,  a  prominent  man  of  our  town,  from 
too  free  use  of  spirituous  liquors,  of  which  he  is  said  to  be  quite 
fond,  lost  his  gravity  last  evening  in  coming  home  from  church, 
and  went,  head  first,  into  a  big  ditch ;  and,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
prompt  assistance  rendered  him,  might  have  expiated  his  sin 
of  intemperance,  by  losing  his  life — a  warning  to  all  men  who 
are  so  unfortunate  as  to  yield  to  their  morbid  tastes  and  passions 
for  rum !" 

"Me?  me? — liars!  thieves!  vagabonds!  I  haint  been  in  no 
ditch !  They'll  take  that  back,  or  I'll  take  the  law  on  'em ! 


158  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

Here,  boy,  go  up  to  the  editor  of  that  paper,  and  tell  him  if  he 
don't  make  it  right  in  the  next  twenty-four  hours,  I'll  horse- 
whip him ;  it's  'bout  as  nigh  as  newspaper  men  git  at  things ! 
Tell  him  'twas  my  wife,  nor  she  want  drunk,  nuther — not — well 
— not  as  I  knowed  of.  I  wont  tell  no  lie  to  him ;  tell  him  to 
come  to  her,  and  she'll  relate  the  circumstances  jist  as  they  ware, 
won't  you,  Mary  Ann?" 

By  the  next  day  they  had  the  truth,  made  their  retractions 
and  concessions;  and  the  whole  matter — her  exit  from  the 
church,  accident,  etc. — was  heralded  in  the  "Daily,"  much  to 
the  mortification  of  the  Tattum  family,  with  these  words  added : 
"All  of  which  sprang  from  misplaced  confidence.  If  men  would 
only  learn  to  appreciate  their  kind,  industrious,  frugal  wives, 
instead  of  wresting  from  them  their  rightful  authority,  putting 
it  into  the  hands  of  strangers,  they  might,  in  a  few  years,  save, 
instead  of  lose  a  fortune." 

Mr.  Clayton  did  not  pay  much  attention  to  the  gossip  that 
was  afloat ;  he  was  too  busy  trying  his  powers  of  persuasion 
upon  his  servant  girl,  who  had  fully  come  to  the  determination 
to  quit  the  place  of  her  temptations,  and  lead  a  different  life, 
although  he  affirmed  that  they  never  had  a  more  trusty  girl,  and 
told  her  there  would  be  no  further  trouble  about  things ;  that 
she  was  a  silly  little  goose  for  exposing  the  matter,  but  to  never 
mind,  now,  that  it  couldn't  be  helped,  and  threw  the  whole  of 
the  blame  upon  Mrs.  Tattum  for  coaxing  her  into  it,  and  his 
wife,  for  not  taking  better  care  of  things. 

Elice  knew  nothing  of  what  had  taken  place, — the  wonderful 
denouement  that  had  come  to  the,  ears  of  the  public,  all  of  a 
sudden,  as  she  had  been  sick  for  several  days,  unable  to  leave 
her  room ;  and  the  matter  heretofore  had  been  kept  quite 
secret ;  so  she  asked  Walter  why  it  was  that  Hettie  had  made 
up  her  mind  to  go. 

Taking  advantage  of  this  ignorance  and  seeing  one  of  her 
friends  seated  by  the  side  of  her,  he  thought  this  a  fine  oppor- 
tunity for  bringing  Elice  again  into  disrepute,  to  lessen  her  in- 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  159 

fluence  in  a  certain  direction,  and  to  shift  the  blame  of  the  loss 
of  their  servant  on  to  her  ;  so  he  replied,  "  When  you  get  a 
good  girl  like  Hettie,  you  ought  to  treat  her  better ;  but,  inas- 
much as  you  have  a  tyrannical  disposition  and  a  bad  temper,  I 
never  expect  to  be  able  to  keep  good  help  when  we  get  it,  long 
at  a  time ;  so  you  can  do  the  work,  yourself,  and  see  how  you 
like  it.  It  will  be  a  good  lesson  for  you." 

These  words  were  spoken  in  such  apparent  good  faith,  that  a 
a  less  experienced  person  than  Mrs.  Ashton  might  have  been 
deceived;  but  she  answered  him  by  saying — "We  know  all 
about  it,  Mr.  Clayton  ;  we  were  all  at  church  last  evening,  and 
we  all  take  the  papers.  I  brought  one  with  me,  to  show  Mrs. 
Clayton." 

Mr.  Clayton  was  about  to  leave  the  room  in  a  hurry — said, 
"  I  have  very  important  business  that  needs  my  immediate  at- 
tention." 

Had  it  been  any  other  than  the  lady  mentioned,  he  would 
have  stood  and  argued  the  matter,  but  her  husband  occupied  a 
very  important  position  at  court,  and  he  had  so  many  lawsuits 
that  he  feared  to  offend  the  family,  lest  their  influence  might 
sometimes  weigh  against  him,  and  injure  him  pecuniarily ;  so  he 
thought  best  to  keep  silence. 

"  But  a  word  before  you  go,"  said  Mrs.  Ashton;  "don't  tear 
yourself  away.  I  was  never  so  happy  as  last  evening,  when 
this  whole  community,  from  words  uttered  by  that  simple- 
hearted  servant  girl  of  yours,  operated  upon  by  the  spirit  of 
God  himself,  which  every  one  in  the  house  felt  were  as  true  as 
the  Bible,  was  brought  to  feel  how  much  and  how  deeply  you 
had  wronged  as  good  a  wife  as  man  could  ever  have ;  for  many 
there  had  been  made  your  confidential  friends  long  enough,  for 
you  to  pour  into  their  ear  tales  of  her  dishonesty,  her  waste- 
fulness, lack  of  interest,  etc.,  in  her  domestic  relations  when, 
indeed,  whatever  loss  you  sustained  was  not  by  her,  but  by 
your  own  mismanagement,  and,  as  the  Herald  remarks,  "mis- 
placed confidences,"  and  a  love  of  listening  to  anything  that 


I6O  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

may  be  said  against  her  by  her  enemies,  and  working  yourself 
up  to  a  belief  of  the  same,  when  your  own  better  judgment 
ought  to  teach  you  that  a  house  divided  against  itself  cannot 
stand;  and  that  a  woman  with  but  a  small  portion  of  common 
sense  would  know  better  than  to  squander  the  earnings  of  her 
husband,  lest  they  might  themselves  come  to  want  and  beggary, 
by  the  means." 

He  did  not  venture  a  reply ;  but  walked  out  of  the  house 
into  the  air,  to  cool  his  smothered  wrath,  wishing  that  woman 
was  some  one  else — that  some  one  else  was  a  man ;  then,  how 
quick  he  would  horsewhip  him  for  his  impudence  !  It  was  not 
the  first  time  that  Mrs.  Ashton  had  rebuked  him  for  his  grow- 
ing propensity  to  bring  disrepute  upon  his  wife,  and  he  felt  the 
sting  most  keenly;  and  wished,  he  thought,  he  could  see  her  in 
as  good  a  position  as  Mrs.  Tattum,  the  evening  previous,  and 
no  one  to  extricate  her  from  her  troubles,  he'd  serve  her  as  he 
did  that  venerable  lady ;  and  then  he  smiled,  when  he  thought 
of  her  position,  and  verily  wished  she  had  not  \  been  blessed 
with  a  little  dog,  even,  to  give  the  alarm,  and — and — well,  never 
mind  the  rest ;  he  would  not  like  us  to  tell,  for  he  certainly 
would  be  ashamed  to  have  those  thoughts  published  to  the 
world. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  l6l 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

"Good  morning,  Sister  Carlyle,"  said  the  Rev.  Dr.  Gray.  "I 
am  glad  you  have  called,  as  I  wish  to  have  a  confidential  con- 
versation with  you  in  reference  to  a  little  church  business ;  and, 
believing  as  I  do,  in  your  sincerity  as  a  Christian,  your  words 
and  advice  will  go  a  good  ways  with  me.  Now,  Brother  Smith 
urges  a  church  trial ;  he  says  he  has  been  slandered  by  Sister 
Tattum  and  her  daughter,  to  a  painful  extent ;  yet,  upon  their 
confessing  to  the  falsity  of  their  statements  before  the  church, 
he  will  forgive  them;  otherwise,  he  must  establish  his  character 
by  requiring  them  to  prove  what  they  have  said ;  if  this  could 
not  be  done,  they  or  he  must  leave  the  church.  'Tis  a  sad 
state  of  affairs — one"which  I  deprecate  exceedingly;  I  wish  to 
do  what  is  right  with  both  parties ;  I  am  for  reconciliation  with- 
out the  matter  being  made  public,  as  it  will  injure  our  influence 
as  a  denomination.  Is  there  any  way,  think  you,  that  this  can 
be  brought  about?  Living  close  neighbors,  could  you  help  me 
in  this  good  work?" 

' '  I  had  rather  keep  aloof,  lest  blame  be  attached  to  me ;  yet, 
if  you  think  it  is  my  duty,  I  am  willing  to  sacrifice  myself  for 
the  good  of  our  church,  and  the  cause  of  Christianity.  What 
do  you  propose?" 

"  Inasmuch  as  you  and  the  family  are  friends,  go  to  Sister 
Tattum  and  Augusta,  and  ask  them  to  call  upon  the  slandered 
brother  and  his  wife — or,  who  think  they  have  been  (of  course 
I  know  nothing  about  it),  and,  in  a  Christ-like  spirit,  strive  to 
make  it  all  right  with  them." 


1 62  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

"But  our  brother  is  so  obstinate,  I  think  nothing  would  sat- 
isfy his  selfish  nature  but  seeing  them  excommunicated.  It 
pains  me  to  say  this,  and  should  not,  if  I  did  not  feel  the  utter 
hopelessness  of  arguing  the  matter  with  him ;  and,  without 
wishing  to  advise,  I  think  he  is  a  man  who  adds  but  very  little 
lustre  to  the  position  he  occupies ;  and  it  would  be  better,  were 
it  filled  by  some  other  person.  The  wiser  course  for  you,  is  to 
let  him  have  his  own  way,  as  he  will  have,  you'll  find  at  last — 
grant  a  trial,  and  let  him  prove  slander,  if  he  can.  Sisters  Tattum 
certainly  should  be  chastised  for  their  evil  doing,  unless  they 
can  prove  that  he  is  in  the  habit  of  getting  intoxicated.  If  so, 
he  has  no  business  to  have  his  name  enrolled  as  a  member;  if 
not,  let  them  suffer  the  consequences.  I  am  no  respecter  of  per- 
sons;  all  I  desire  is  to  see  justice.  It  maybe,  however,  the 
whole  trouble  rests  with  the  informant,  Sister  Thompson ;  if 
so,  let  the  blame  fall  upon  her  head." 

"Let  us  strive,  to  follow  the  teachings  of  the  Spirit  in  this 
matter;  to  make  it  a  subject  of  prayer,  sister.  I  am  willing  to 
forgive  seventy  times  seven,  if  I  thought,  at  last,  a  person 
would  do  better." 

"Yes,  yes,  we  are  all  sinful,  and  need  sympathy;  but  is  it 
best  for  the  upbuilding  of  the  glorious  kingdom  to  tolerate  vice 
in  our  midst?  if,  after  we  have  been  and  labored  with  an  erring 
brother  and  sister,  then  taken  two  or  three  more  as  our  beloved 
discipline  enjoins,  there  is  a  continuation  of  some  heinous  sins, 
such  as  profanity  or  drunkennesss,  should  we  not  rid  ourselves 
of  that  evil,  even  though  we  root  out  the  cause  ?  lest  the  tares 
destroy  the  wheat,  or  our  influence  as  a  Christian  church  ceases 
to  be  felt." 

"Your  argument  is  good;  but  it  seems  like  taking  out  an 
eye  to  lose  a  member." 

"True,  but  what  saith  Holy  Writ?  '  If  thy  right  eye  offend 
thee,  pluck  it  out,  and  cast  it  from  thee, '  etc.  But  do  not 
understand  me  that  I  desire  to  see  any  person  turned  from  the 
church  and  the  holy  communion,  unless  he  continue  to  follow 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  163 

up  certain  vice  after  their  salvation  has  been  sought  through 
tears." 

"No,  sister,  I  cannot  think  you  do;  I  know  how  you  feel. 
But  now  a  few  words  in  reference  to  the  scandal  of  the  other 
evening.  It  does  seem  that  Sister  Tattum  has  much  tribulation 
for  so  zealous  a  follower  of  the  Master.  Of  course  I  believe  in 
her  innocence;  but  how  came  that  servant  girl  to  make  such 
confessions,  if  there  was  nothing  at  all  in  them?" 

"  She  has  spells  of  derangement ;  the  excitement  brought  it 
on  at  the  time,  and  she  did  not  know  of  what  she  was  speaking. 
Mr.  Walter  Clayton  told  me  they  were  making  arrangements  to 
send  her  to  the  lunatic  asylum." 

"  Dreadful !  I  think  me  now,  that  I  saw  aberrations  of  mind, 
but  attributed  it  at  the  time  to  an  undue  excitement.  I'm 
sorry  for  the  girl,  but  it  clears  up  the  character  of  our  worthy 
sister." 

Mrs.  Gray  heard  the  well  known  voice  of  Mrs.  Carlyle,  and 
went  into  the  room.  "See  here,"  said  she,  after  the  usual  salu- 
tations, ' '  have  you  seen  this  little  suit,  this  beautiful  gift  from 
Augusta  Tattum  ?  I  have  brought  it  in  purposely  to  show  you. 
Wish  you  had  come  a  little  sooner,  as  I  have  been  trying  it  on 
to  baby,  and  it's  a  perfect  fit;  and  oh!  so  lovely.  Isn't  she  a' 
a  dear,  good  girl  ?  Was  it  not  thoughtful  of  her  ?  Nothing 
could  have  pleased  me  better." 

' '  I  know  about  it,  sister,  and  gave  her  the  patterns  of  the 
embroidery." 

"She  is  possessed  of  patience." 

"Yes,  for  it  took  her  a  long  time  to  do  the  work;  beside 
that,  you  notice  the  material  is  quite  expensive." 

"Indeed!  indeed,  'tis  very  nice  throughout,  and  I  thank  her 
very  much  for  her  kind  remembrance." 

"Her  mother  gave  us  a  very  liberal  donation,  beside,"  said 
Dr.  Gray.  "I  felt  that  she  was  robbing  herself,  and  would  not 
have  taken  it,  only  I  knew  she  would  feel  so  hurt  if  I  said  any- 


164  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

thing.  It  is  a  generous  family ;  there  are  none  in  their  circum- 
stances that  pay  as  liberally.  And  then,  see  how  much  they  do 
for  the  poor  every  year,  and  from  purely  disinterested  motives ! 
but  a  glorious  reward  awaits  the  faithful.  '  Inasmuch  as  ye  did 
it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these,  ye  did  it  unto  me.' " 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  165 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

Mrs.  Carlyle  went  directly  from  the  parsonage  to  the  resi- 
dence of  the  Tattums.  "  I  think,"  she  said  on  entering,  "your 
troubles,  Sister  Tattum,  are  nearly  at  an  end.  I've  been  over 
and  had  a  long  talk  with  Brother  Gray  and  wife,  neither  of 
whom  have  been  influenced  in  the  least,  by  the  gossip  which 
has  been  afloat." 

"  Just  step  into  the  other  room,"  replied  Mrs.  Tattum,  and  led 
the  way,  once  more  into  the  parlor  where,  a  few  weeks  before, 
they  had  held  their  private  tete-a-tete  in  reference  to  the  same 
piece  of  church  scandal.  "  Now  we  are  safe  from  intruders" — 
bolting  the  door — "  and  you  can  speak  your  mind  freely,  with- 
out being  heard." 

"  And  you're  sure  old  Hezekiah  is  not  around?" 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  He  went  fishing  early  this  morning,  and 
will  not  return  till  evening." 

"  So  far,  so  good." 

"Any  new  plans?" 

"  Some  improvements  on  the  old  one  is  all ;  but  we  are  sure 
to  have  it  all  our  own  way,  for  I  have  made  the  minister  believe 
that  is  the  only  way." 

"  How  now?" 

"Well,  old  Smith,  the  old  villain,  is  sure  to  take  you  for 
slander ;  you  will  prove  you  never  said  anything  against  him  ; 
that  will  lay  Mrs.  Col.  Thompson,  the  low-life  'creature,  in  a 
falsehood,  and  put  her  directly  into  your  shoes, — either  an  open 


166  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

confession  which  her  pride  will  not  suffer,  or  be  e'xcommunicated. 
Having  disposed  of  her,  we  will  inform  on  old  Smith  for  re- 
peated drunkenness  and  profanity." 

"  But  your  witnesses?" 

"  You,  Augusta,  Mrs.  Jones, — you  know  she  has  got  all  her 
buttermilk  at  our  house  for  these  three  years,  and  would  swear 
to  anything  I  said,  if  necessary — Jonas  Carlton,  that  drives  a 
team  for  us ;  he's  in  regular  standing  and  his  word  is  as  good  as 
any  one's — Mrs.  Jinks,  my  sewing  woman,  who  would  rather 
die  than  offend  me,  for  she  couldn't  live  at  all  outside  of  our 
house — and  myself.  By  the  way,  has  Augusta  commenced 
that  new  suit  yet  ?" 

"Yes,  and  has  it  nearly  half  finished." 

"Oh!  how  sweet  Lillie  will  look  in  it,  won't  she?  Bless  her 
little  heart !  " 

"Well,  now,  are  you  sure  no  one  is  in  the  house  but  our- 
selves? You  had  better  take  a  survey,  lest  we  might  drop 
something  we  would  not  want  the  world  to  know." 

"None  of  my  family  would  tell  a  word,  if  it  were  going  to 
implicate  me." 

"Unless  it  were  the  old  man." 

"Ole  man — ole  man ;  now  it's  a  wonder  to  me  that  woman's 
so  respectful ! "  thought  Hezekiah,  who  had  been  listening  at 
the  keyhole  for  some  moments. 

"  No  danger  at  all  of  him,  for  he'll  not  be  in  before  midnight, 
like  enough.  If  he  comes,  we  can  hear  him." 

"I've  brought  over  my  cards  again,  just  to  show  you  how 
the  thing  is  coming  out;  and  I  wouldn't  want  any  one  in  the 
wide  world  to  know,  only  you,  that  I  had  anything  to  do  with 
them.  What  do  you  suppose  Parson  Gray  would  say  if  he  knew 
we  actually  indulged  in  games?" 

"Turn  us  out,  probably." 

"Yes,  I  think  he  would,  for  I  believe  he  is  a  conscientious 
man,  and  acts  from  pure  principle;  and  we  would  have  but  a 
slim  chance,  only  he  is  so  easily  deceived." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  1 67 

"But  here,  now,  the  cards  are  shuffled — cut  them.  Do  you 
see  ?  here  is  Mrs.  Col.  Thompson,  with  her  back  turned  upon 
the  whole  congregation  ;  following  close  at  her  heels,  with 
excitement  and  tears  between,  are  old  Smith  and  his  wife,  which 
shows  that  they'll  all  soon  be  marching  along  out  of  our  midst, 
to  the  double  quicksteps  that  we  shall  give  some  day  for  their 
especial  benefit."  And  hereupon  she  went  to  the  organ  and 
played  "Yankee  Doodle,"  and  Mrs.  Tattum  got  up  and  tried  to 
dance. 

["Wuss  nor  me,  I  vum  !  "  said  Hezekiah  in  an  undertone; 
"  an  folks  don't  think  o'  calling  me  nothin'  but,  'that  ole  sin- 
ner'— and,  'that  ole  drunken  cuss' — an'  'ole  d-1,'  an'  aheap 
o'  pet  names,  just  like  'em  " — taking  out  his  bottle  of  whisky 
from  his  pocket — "  I  bel'eve  I'll  go  in  and  ax  'em  don't  they 
want  a  drink."] 

"This  being  settled,  don't  you  feel  better?"  said  Mrs. 
Carlyle. 

"I  trust  to  your  shrewdness,  or  I  should  fear  of  being 
swamped.  You  must  have  help  from  some  unknown  source." 

"Indeed,  I  do — from  a  good  many  dead  friends  whose  spirits 
come  and  tell  me  just  how  to  manage." 

"  And  they  speak  through  these  cards?  " 

"  Appear  in  most  every  form  imaginable.  Sometimes  there 
is  a  white  hand  laid  upon  my  shoulders ;  again,  a  face  appears. 
Now  I  should  fear  to  do  as  I  do,  only  they  tell  me  the  Bible  is 
untrue.  Discard  this,  and  we  have  no  hell  nor  heaven ;  and  I 
am  in  doubt  about  the  existence  of  a  God  !  " 

"  Oh,  dreadful !  you  never  said  so  much  before." 

"It  is  only  recently  that  my  eyes  have  been  opened." 

"  And  why  do  you  still  cling  to  the  church  ?  " 

"A  sacrifice  of  opinion  for  popularity,  that  is  all.  If  I 
should  openly  avow  my  principles,  a  finger  of  scorn  would  be 
pointed  at  me  at  once." 

"  Horrors  !  Ain't  you  in  league  with  the  Evil  One  ?  " 

"I  think  I  am,  if  there  is  such  a  creature,"  and  here  Mrs. 


1 68  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

Carlyle  chuckled  inwardly  to  think  she  could  arouse  the  fears  of 
such  a  woman  as  Mrs.  Tattum,  and  get  the  start  of  her  for  once. 
Then,  fearing  to  go  too  far,  lest  there  would  be  a  break  about 
the  church  business,  she  laughed  aloud  and  said,  "  You  needn't 
believe  me,  for  I  do  not  mean  half  I  say.  Can't  you  lend  me 
twenty-five  dollars?" 

"Yes,  if  I  had  so  much." 

"You  have  more  than  that.  I  heard  you  counting  it,  and 
saw  it  through  the  open  door,  when  I  first  came." 

"  You  are  mistaken." 

"  You  have  a  hundred  dollars  in  the  bank,  and  fifty  in  your 
pocket." 

Mrs.  Tattum  turned  pale  ;  she  knew  this  was  true ;  but  how 
that  woman  came  to  find  it  out,  was  the  mystery. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,  if  I  know  everything  that  is  going  on  ; 
why,  I  can  read  your  thoughts!  but  I'll  not  hurt  you,"  said 
Mrs.  Carlyle. 

"  You  impose  upon  me." 

"  No  more  than  you  do  on  other  people. '  Where  do  you  get 
the  most  of  your  change  ?  " 

"  Out  o'  subscription  papers,  and  my  pocket,"  thought  Hez- 
ekiah,  placing  his  ear  still  closer  to  the  keyhole  ;  "  but  it's  none 
o'  her  business ;  notion  to  pitch  her  out  doors.  Now  Mary 
Ann  an'  me  has  a  heap  o'  skirmishes,  now  and  then,  but  I 
don't  want  the  likes  o'  that  critter  to  come  right  inter  the 
house,  pertend  great  friends,  and  then  want  to  rob  her  ;  an'  I'll 
show  her  as  mighty  glib  as  that  wife  o'  mine  uses  her  tongue 
on  me,  she  ain't  going  to  make  a  fool  on  her,  any  way. '  He 
raised  his  fist  to  knotl?  against  the  door,  then  thought  he  would 
wait  to  hear  what  more  she  had  to  say. 

"Will  you  let  me  have  it?"  she  said  coaxingly;  "you 
know  I  will  have  to  pay  the  witnesses  something  ;  and  then, 
can't  you  see  the  trouble  I've  been  to  for  you  ?  That  will  be 
nothing ;  you  make  it  so  easy.  I'll  return  it  again,  or  what 
I'm  not  obliged  to  use  on  this  business  of  yours. " 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  169 

"Well,  here  it  is;  but  your  promises  ain't  worth  shucks," 
said  Mrs.  Tattum,  angrily. 

Bang — bang,  went  the  door — off  came  the  bolt !  Hezekiah 
could  hold  his  peace  no  longer.  He  grabbed  the  money,  and 
said,  "Now,  woman,  unless  you  take  one  o'  them  double 
quicksteps  I  heered  you  talking  on,  in  one  minute,  I'll  give  you 
the  toe  o'  my  boot;  and  furthermore,  I'll  report  on  you 
myself,  and  get  you  all  turned  out  of  the  church." 

She  made  a  hasty  exit ;  but  as  soon  as  Mrs.  Tattum  could 
pacify  her  offended  master,  Hezekiah,  she  hastened  to  the 
house  of  Mrs.  Carlyle.  They  talked  up  their  business  and 
arranged  everything  with  perfect  satisfaction,  to  their  own 
minds,  inviting  in  their  witnesses  for  the  evening,  and  after  giv- 
ing them  a  grand  supper,  proceeded  to  instruct  them  on  all 
points  necessary  to  the  consummation  of  their  wishes  at  the 
coming  trial. 

Mrs.  Tattum  was  the  last  one  home ;  and,  when  she  parted 
with  Mrs.  Carlyle,  she  gave  her  not  only  the  twenty-five  dol- 
lars, but  promised  her  as  much  more  if  everything  turned  out 
satisfactorily. 


I  7O  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

The  day  of  the  church  trial  came  at  last.  It  had  been  long 
talked  of  and  much  gossip  was  afloat,  not  only  going  the  rounds 
of  all  the  members  of  this  particular  denomination,  but  others 
had  taken  it  up.  Consequently,  great  excitement  prevailed 
when  the  time  came  for  these  offending  members  to  be  arraigned 
to  answer  words  of  defamation  claimed  to  have  been  uttered 
against  a  worthy  brother  and  sister.  The  church  was  filled 
with  people  anxious  to  hear  what  could  be  said,  some  affirming 
that  the  ready  wit  of  Mrs.  Tattum  would  come  to  her  aid,  as  it 
always  had,  and  be  the  means  of  her  clearance  ;  while  others 
declared  that  she  would  surely  be  excommunicated,  as  the 
pastor  was  so  intent  on  dealing  justly  and  doing  right ;  all  that 
was  required  was  the  evidence,  and  there  was  enough  of  this 
which  could  not  be  gainsaid. 

The  accused  and  accusers  with  all  their  witnesses  sat  facing 
each  other  ;  while  wrathful  glances  flashed  out  whenever  their 
eyes  chanced  to  meet,  Augusta  Tattum  so  far  forgetting  herself 
as  to  turn  up  her  nose  at  Deacon  Smith,  if  he  ventured  to  look 
at  her ;  while  her  mother  and  Mrs.  Carlyle,  each  dressed  in  a 
becoming  robe  of  black,  deeper  dyed  in  hypocrisy,  endeavored 
to  appear  very  saint-like,  and  did  deceive  a  good  many,  as  they 
put  on  their  solemn  faces,  and  sweet,  dignified  bearing,  keeping, 
a  portion  of  the  time,  their  eyes  closed,  as  if  in  prayer  and 
meditation.  The  minister  noticed  all  this,  and  his  large  heart, 
previously  warmed  by  the  liberal  donations  that  he  had  received, 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  I/ 1 

went  out  in  deep  sympathy  for  the  accused ;  while  occasionally 
he  wiped  tears  that  welled  up  in  spite  of  his  great  effort  to  re- 
strain them,  with  a  snow-white  handkerchief,  his  initials  beauti- 
fully embroidered  in  the  corners — a  gift,  too,  from  one  of  those 
generous  ladies. 

After  a  time  he  arose,  and,  with  solemnity  said,  "I  regret 
exceedingly  that  anything  should  have  transpired  among  the 
beloved  flock,  of  sufficient  magnitude  to  call  us  together  in  the 
capacity  for  which  we  have  this  day  assembled.  The  accusation 
alleged  to  have  been  made  by  these  sisters  in  the  church,  who 
have  heretofore  sustained  an  unblemished  reputation,  who  have 
led  a  truly  exalted  and  Christian  life,  living  up  to  all  the  ordi- 
nances of  the  church,  conforming  to  the  rules  laid  down  in  our 
discipline,  so  heroically  offering  their  services  on  any  and  every 
occasion  required,  and  sustaining  the  Gospel,  is  a  very  grave 
and§serious  matter ;  and  one  which  involves  loss  of  character, 
a  position  of  influence  in  this  church,  which  they  have  held  so 
many  years." 

By  this  time,  the  sobs  of  Mrs.  Tattum  were  audible  all  over 
the  church,  while  it  seemed  very  hard  for  Mrs.  Carlyle  and  the 
rest  of  her  witnesses  to  restrain  themselves  sufficiently  to  keep 
from  following  her  example.  A  lady  on  the  opposite  side  sent 
a  note  to  Augusta;  she  had  something  to  communicate  which 
would  be  of  service  to  them,  and  desired  her  to  come  and  take 
a  seat  by  her  side.  It  was  directly  back  of  Deacon  Smith,  and, 
as  she  passed  along,  she  could  not  restrain  her  temper,  now  that 
so  good  an  opportunity  presented  itself  to  satisfy  her  wicked 
and  mischievous  disposition.  Having  to  pass  near  to  him  to 
take  her  seat — so  near  that  she  could  touch  him  if  she  chose, 
and  no  one  know  but  it  was  purely  accidental,  she  gave  his  wig 
a  little  twitch,  when  it  fell  off  and  down  directly  under  her  feet, 
giving  him  somewhat  the  appearance  of  a  shorn  lamb ;  some 
given  most  to  merriment  calling  him  "Mary's  little  lamb." 
Vexed  beyond  ejidurance,  his  hot  temper  gaining  the  ascend- 
ancy, and  without  heeding  the  beautiful  words,  "If  a  brother 


1/2  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

have  aught  against  a  brother,  forgive,"  which  had  been  so  wisely 
explained  the  Sabbath  previous,  and  which  had  seemed  to  him 
so  easy  to  perform,  and  such  a  little  thing,  turned  around  and 
boxed  her  ears  soundly ;  while  she  ground  her  teeth  in  rage, 
but  what  he  considered  still  worse,  tramped  upon,  and  scoured 
his  lovely  locks  of  black,  for  which  he  had  paid  a  goodly  price, 
and  considered  very  fair  to  behold,  with  one  of  her  little  feet 
until  it  was  not  fit  to  be  again  worn. 

The  back  door  being  but  a  few  steps  from  him,  he  beat  a 
hasty  retreat,  not  knowing  what  to  do  hardly,  as  he  could  not 
absent  himself  from  the  church  trial  very  long,  and  he  did  not 
wish  to  stay  under  the  appalling  circumstances.  He  bethought 
him,  however,  of  an  old  wig  locked  up  in  a  trunk  with  other 
antique  relics,  which  would  be  better  than  nothing,  and  perhaps 
look  very  well  when  he  had  oiled  and  combed  it.  But  it  was 
a  very  bright  red,  while  his  was  coal  black  ;  and  after  placing 
it  on  his  head  and  doing  his  best,  it  had  so  changed  his  looks 
that  his  nearest  friends  would  scarcely  know  him.  But  it  was. 
not  for  the  better,  and,  as  he  took  a  survey  of  himself  in  the 
mirror,  great  oaths  came  into  his  mind  which,  however,  he  did 
not  utter,  while  he  asked,  mentally,  "  Am  I  Deacon  George 
Washington  Smith,  or  some  other  man  ?  Now,  this  hair 
belonged  to  that  aged  man  who  died  here  a  long  time  ago,  and 
I  look  every  moment  as  old  as  he  did  then,  and  he  was  well 
nigh  onto  one  hundred  years.  My  own  wife  would  think  it  was 
his  apparition  if  she  should  see  me.  Why,  where  is  she  ?  Had 
not  got  to  the  church  when  I  left,  and  and  I  am  glad  of  it,  for 
she  would  have  felt  so  badly  to  see  me  insulted  by  that 
good-for-nothing.  Well,  well,  well,  stop,  George  Washington 
Smith,  don't  say  what  you  think  (putting  his  hands  over  his 
lips),  for  you  know  you  profess  better  things  ;  you  are  the  dea- 
con of  that  great  church  over  yonder."  He  then  tried  so  hard 
to  repeat  the  words,  "  Forgive  us  our  trespasses  as  we  forgive 
them  that  trespass  against  us  ;  "  but,  for  his  life,  he  could  not 
say  it,  for  the  thoughts  of  the  saucy,  arrogant,  mischievous 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  1/3 

Augusta  Tattum  and  his  once  beautiful  but  now  tattered  and 
demolished  wig  kept  crowding  them  out. 

He  glanced  again  into  the  mirror — "Oh,  fury!"  he  ex- 
claimed, "I'm  a  fright:  I  believe  I'll  stay  away  from  the  trial 
entirely,  for  I  shall  be  nothing  but  a  laughing  stock  when  I  get 
there  ;  for  some  will  be  sure  to  recognize  me.  But  no — that 
will  never  do !  I  must  hear  what  all  those  dirty,  lowlive,  black- 
guards on  the  other  side  have  to  say  about  me."  "Be  still, 
deacon,  be  still !"  his  conscience  again  whispered  ;  "be  more 
respectful :  do  unto  others,  as  ye  would  that  they  should  do 
unto  you :  say  nothing  about  them  you  would  not  have  them 
say  of  you  ;  "  and  so  he  repeated  the  sentence  again:  "I  must 
hear  what  all  those,"  etc.,  to  see  if  he  could  not  put  "dear 
brethren  and  sisters"  in  place  of  the  harsh  names  he  had 
uttered.  But  they  had  got  to  be  such  hard  words  to  speak,  he 
could  not  do  it ;  and  he  made  up  his  mind  whether  a  person 
were  a  saint  or  a  sinner  he  could  not  very  well  help  his  thoughts; 
and  so  brought  relief  to  his  mind  in  this  way.  But,  inasmuch 
as  he  could  not  absent  himself  from  the  church,  he  said  that  he 
would  make  his  disguise  perfect ;  so  he  put  on  a  suit  through- 
out— a  very  odd  looking  one — that  had  belonged  to  the  same 
gentleman,  which  he  thought  no  one  would  recognize,  perhaps; 
but  if  they  should,  hoped  they'd  think  'twas  this  old  man's 
apparition — he  had  come  back  to  avenge  him.  'Twas  going  to 
be  a  dark  night,  and  so  he  thought  he'd  better  watch  for  those 
d-ls  (he  could  not  say  brethren  and  sisters,  yet ;  and,  as  this 
other  word  had  already  escaped  his  lips,  he  said,  ' '  Well,  that's 
just  what  I  think  they  are,  and  I  will  not  be  a  hypocrite,  nor 
try  to  be  one  any  longer;  so  let  it  slide,")  and  scare  them  into 
fits ;  make  them  believe  there  is  a  ghost  after  them,  Augusta 
Tattum,  especially.  But  instead,  he  went  once  more  to  the 
scene  of  his  distresses  and  took  his  seat  in  the  congregation  ; 
but  as  far  removed  from  all  the  Tattums  as  possible,  lest  their 
keen  eyes  should  discover  his  trick  and  they  should  commit 
other  depredations  upon  him. 


174  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

The  minister  not  noticing  this  little  play  between  these  two 
very  worthy  members,  as  he  had  been  so  intent  on  smoothing 
matters  up,  continued,  "While  on  the  other  hand  our  dear 
Brother  Smith  whose  name  has  been  enrolled  so  many  years 
upon  our  church  books,  and  in  all  that  time  been  so  faithful  a 
servant  of  the  Lord,  upon  whose  fair  name  no  blemish  has  ever 
rested,  of  course,  is  perfectly  justifiable  in  vindicating  his  honor 
and  reputation,  by  inviting  an  investigation  ;  which,  after  having 
been  done,  we  sincerely  believe  will  feel  satisfied  that  there  has 
been  no  cause  for  complaint.  We  will  now  proceed  to  take 
testimony.  Sister  Thompson,  will  you  please  tell  us  what  you 
know  of  this  matter?  " 

She  arose,  and,  after  looking  daggers  at  the  opposing  party, 
snappishly  said,  "I  cannot  see  how  any  person  with  a  particle 
of  observation  or  sense  of  penetration  can  for  a  moment  think 
that  a  brother  who  has  been  so  wilfully  and  repeatedly  slandered, 
has  no  cause  of  complaint." 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Gray,  fearing  he  would  again  be  reproached  by 
this  one  of  the  "  beloved  flock, "  coloring  slightly,  told  her  if 
she  had  ever  heard  any  slanderous  remarks  made  by  the  ac- 
cused— Sister  Tattum  and  daughter — to  tell  just  what  they  were 
and  when  it  was,  as  they  had  no  time  to  enter  into  preliminaries. 

"Last  summer,  then,  at  the  residence  of  old  Carlyle"  himself. 
I  heard  them  both  say  he  got  drunk  very  often — drunk  as  a 
beast." 

' '  Who  was  present  at  the  time  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Carlyle,  Mrs.  Tattum,  daughter  and  myself  were  all." 

"Well,  that  will  do,  sister,"  said  the  pastor. 

She  expected  to  tell  the  whole  story ;  how,  without  the  least 
provocation,  they  had  commenced  their  tirade  against  Brother 
Smith ;  expatiate  on  the  meanness  of  the  assault  upon  his  char- 
acter, and  to  plead  his  cause;  but  she  had  to  sit  down  before 
she  had  half  finished,  and  she  was  exceedingly  angry. 

"Now  we  will  hear  from  Brother  Carlton.  Be  brief,  and 
tell  us  what  you  have  heard,  in  as  few  words  as  possible." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  1/5 

-  He  was  not  considered  bright,  and  people  began  to  laugh  the 
moment  he  arose  to  his  feet,  expecting  a  rich  treat  from  his  tes- 
timony. 

' '  Well — well — hie — old  mother  Carlyle — sister,  I  mean — has 
got  a  stock  of  the  worst  cats  I  ever  seen — most  as  bad  as  their 
mistress;  for,  one  day,  I  guess  'twas  last  July,  I  went  into  the 
buttery  to  git  me  a  drink  uv  milk,  an'  what  should  I  see,  but 
three  or  four  on  em  blazen  away  at  the  milk,  licken  the  cream 
clean  off  on  it,  mostly ;  and  when  I  was  strainin'  it  over  after  um 
— you  see  I  had  to  do  that  before  I  could  eat  it  at  all,  you  know 
— I  happened  to  look  out  on  the  winder,  and  there  was  her  hull 
drove  of  hens  in  Miss  Thompson's  (Sister  Thompson's,  I  mean) 
posy  beds,  scratching  them  all  to  thunder — kingdom  kum,  I 
should  have  said ;  then  I  thought  I'd  jist  go  an'  tell  this  worthy 
sister  to  jist  shut  up  them  dumb'd  hens  o'  hern  ;  so  I  runs  over 
there  in  a  jerk  uv  lightnin',  and  who  should  I  see  but  our  worthy 
sisters — old  mother  Tattum  and  her  darter,  cummin';  well, 
I'd  jist  as  live  hear  'em  talk  as  to  go  to  a  show,  any  time;  and 
I  hear  so  much  news  alwers  I  don't  hev  to  buy  any  newspapers 
for  a  hull  week  or  two,  and  it's  a  savin',  can't  you  see?" 

Rev.  Dr.  Gray  had  been  spoken  to  by  a  person  in  the  back 
part  of  the  house,  just  as  he  had  arisen  to  tell  his  story,  or  he 
would  not  have  allowed  so  much  preamble ;  but  now,  listening, 
told  him  to  simply  state  the  facts  as  they  were,  and  to  be  very 
brief. 

"This  is  all  a  fact,  sir,  what  I  hev  sed,  but  Ize  tellin'  about 
them  Tattums.  They  came  to  old  Carlyle's,  an'  went  in  and 
commenced  about  Brother  Smith ;  and  said  he  got  drunk  as  an 
owl — both  on  'em  said  it,  an'  they  can't  deny  it." 

"Who  was  present?" 

"Why  !  them  and  me  an'  old  mother  Carlyle  an'  that  woman 
what  sews  for  her — yonder  she  sits,  lookin'  as  solemn  (like  as 
them  are  hens  arter  I'd  chased  'em  off  uv  the  door  yard — an' 
Sister  Thompson,  an'  that  wuz  all." 


1/6  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

All  of  the  witnesses  on  the  other  side  testified  that  they 
remembered  the  time  well  to  which  they  referred,  but  the  dea- 
con's name  had  never  been  mentioned  only  with  the  greatest 
respect.  This  cleared  the  Tattums,  and  they  went  away  very 
happy  to  bear  the  news  of  their  triumphant  acquittal;  but  Dea- 
con Smith  and  wife,  Mrs.  Col.  Thompson,  with  as  many  others 
as  they  could  influence,  left  the  church,  declaring  they  would 
not  remain  longer  where  there  was  so  much  lying,  hypocrisy 
and  deceit. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  177 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Morning  came — the  next  after  Hettie  had  left  for  home.  It 
was  eight  o'clock,  and  no  one  was  yet  astir  at  Mr.  Clayton's. 
He  had  been  awake  for  several  hours,  thinking  what  an  unhappy 
lot  had  fallen  to  him,  and  wondering  why  he  should  have  so 
much  trouble;  when,  finally,  he  broke  forth  with  these  words  : 
"  Well,  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  get  my  own  breakfast,  or  go 
without  any.  Elice,  how  much  longer  do  you  expect  to  lie 
here — a  burden  to  yourself  and  everyone  around  you  ?  I  do 
wish  you'd  get  well,  or — or — well,  do  one  thing  or  another — 
live  or  die !  Do  you  'spose  if  I'd  known  that  you  would  be  sick 
in  this  way,  and  I'd  have  to  make  my  own  fires  and  get  my 
meals,  I'd  gone  way  out  there  to  Woodville  and  married  you?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean?"  replied  Elice.  "I'm  scarcely  ever 
sick,  and  shall  be  up  now,  in  a  few  days,  able  to  attend  to  my 
own  household  affairs,  but  I  cannot  rise  this  morning ;  don't  be 
.so  disconsolate,  just  because  I  am  not  around  to  attend  to 
things.  Mrs.  Ashton  told  me  of  a  very  worthy  servant  girl 
we  could  obtain  ;  hadn't  you  better  go  for  her?" 

"Who  is  it?" 

"  An  elderly  girl  living  on  High  street." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  homely  old  maid,  do  you  ?  If  so,  I'll 
•do  the  work,  myself,  rather  than  have  her  around.  Well," 
he  said,  springing  to  his  feet,  "I  will  be  servant  girl  for  a  few 
days  ;  the  store  is  closed,  and  I'd  just  like  to  show  you  how  neat 
and  trim  I  can  keep  things,  and  then  have  two-thirds  of  the 
time  to  myself." 


I  ?8  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

Poor  Elice  drew  a  long  breath ;  she  was  unable  to  rise  from 
her  couch,  and  what  would  she  do,  witrf  no  one  but  him  to  wait 
upon  her?  Still,  she  said  nothing. 

"Why  don't  you  speak?  Don't  you  'spose  I  could  do  it  ?  I 
know  I  could,  and  keep  the  children  dressed  up  every  minute  ; 
they  wouldn't  look  as  they  do  now,  sometimes." 

"You  might  try,"  said  Elice,  smiling.  He  dressed  himself 
and  went  to  the  kitchen.  Everything  had  been  left  the  day 
before  in  perfect  order  by  the  servant  girl.  He  cast  his  eyes 
around.  "  It  looks  pretty  well,"  he  thought,  "but  nothing  to 
what  it  will  when  I  get  to  doing  the  work.  I'll  scour  this  floor 
with  sand  every  day,  dust  and  sweep,  make  the  beds,  get  the 
meals  and  wash  the  dishes — that's  all  there  is  to  do.  Why, 
yes,  there  is  washing  and  ironing,  but  I'll  put  that  out.  Oh  ! 
I  forgot — and  baking  bread  and  pastry.  I  can  do  that ;  I  know 
just  how,  for  I  remember  exactly  how  mother  used  to  do  ; 
and  I  know  I  can  do  just  like  her.  Well,  to-day  shall  be  spent 
getting  my  hand  in ;  to-morrow,  baking  and  slicking  up ; 
and  next  day — oh  !  I  know,  now,  I'll  have  company  to  dinner. 
It  would  not  be  like  a  woman,  unless  I  invited  in  guests,  so  I'll 
ask  some  of  my  gentlemen  friends  to  dine  with  me.  Who  will 
it  be  ?  Hon.  John  Rutter  and  Attorney  Winthrop.  They  are 
coming  from  Cambden  to  hunt  and  fish.  I'd  like  to  show  them 
how  perfectly  elegant  I  can  keep  house,  if  I'm  a  mind  to  ;  not 
that  I  care  anything  about  waiting  upon  them,  but  just  to  let 
them  know  that  my  argument  was  sound  when  we  had  our  dis- 
pute in  their  office  about  the  rights  of  women,  etc.,  and  how 
true  my  words  were  when  I  said  I  could  do  any  woman's  little 
housework,  providing  she  did  not  have  more  than  half  a  dozen 
children,  keep  things  tidy,  and  have  two-thirds  of  the  time 
left,  to  do  what  I  pleased  in.  Won't  they  be  surprised  ?  But, 
inasmuch  as  I've  got  so  much  to  think  of,  we'll  take  some  pan- 
cakes for  our  breakfast — that'll  do  for  the  children  and  me  this 
morning  ;  here  are  some  already  light  and  beautiful — some  that 
Hettie  left;  they'll  be  so  nice  !" 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  179 

So  he  baked  a  plate  of  pancakes,  put  on  the  syrup  dish  and 
some  butter,  and  all  sat  down  around  the  table. 

"O  papa,  these  pancathes  are  thour !  "  suggested  Blanche 
after  she  had  tasted  them. 

"I  know  better.  Now  you'll  eat  them,  or  go  without  any- 
thing, miss  ;  you're  getting  some  like  your  mother ;  you  like  to 
find  fault,  don't  you  ?  " 

"No,  thir." 

"Well,  then,  stop  your  noise  !  " 

When  he  came  to  sit  down  to  the  table  to  take  his  breakfast, 
he  found  that  what  the  child  said  was  quite  true ;  but,  pretend- 
ing not  to  want  anything,  having  a  headache,  he  left  his  meal 
almost  untouched,  and  thought  he  would  go  to  the  hotel  and 
get  his  breakfast ;  then,  thinking  that  would  give  rise  to  so  many 
queries,  he  concluded  he  would  wait  and  see  if  he  could  not  do 
better  for  dinner. 

He  then  started  off  up  town,  thinking  he'd  just  go  and  get 
his  morning  mail,  come  immediately  home,  do  up  his  work  and 
get  dinner.  Once  there,  however,  he  found  an  old  acquaint- 
ance from  the  country,  with  whom  he  discussed  politics  for  a 
while,  then  went  around  to  a  restaurant,  took  a  sandwich  and 
cup  of  coffee.  Here  he  met  some  more  friends,  talked  a  while 
with  them,  taking  a  few  with  whom  he  was  most  familiar 
one-  side,  relating  his  home  troubles,  at  the  same  time  ask- 
ing advice  in  regard  to  certain  matters,  and  forgetting  all 
about  the  work  in  the  kitchen,  until  the  town  clock  pealed 
out  the  hour  of  twelve,  and  he  knew  the  children  would 
be  home  for  their  dinner.  He  then  started.  The  table  he 
found  just  as  he  had  left  it  in  the  morning,  only  it  seemed  to 
him  there  were  not  so  many  dirty  dishes;  but  there  were 
no  more  in  the  house,  so  he  told  the  children  it  was  so  late  that 
they  could  eat  off  the  same  plates  they  did  for  breakfast,  or 
they  might  be  delayed  from  school,  and  it  would  never  do  to  be 
tardy. 

"  But  what  are  we  to  eat,  papa?  " 


l8O  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

"  Why,  why,  the  pancakes  are  not  all  gone,  are  they  ?  We'll 
have  some  of  them  and  molasses ;  they  are  the  easiest  got. 
I'll  bake  them  directly." 

"  I  believe  I  don't  want  any  dinner,"  said  Blanche. 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Charlie,  "  for  my  breakfast  made  me  sick." 

"  Me  nuzzer,  don't  like  yo  nassy,  sour  sings, "  little  Robin 
ventured  to  say. 

"You  are  all  very  particular,  just  like  your  mother  about  that 
too." 

Mr.  Clayton  went  around  the  second  time  to  the  restaurant, 
bought  half  a  fried  chicken,  half  a  dozen  eggs  and  a  cup  of 
tea,  all  of  which  he  partook  with  a  relish,  as  he  was  very 
hungry.  After  he  had  finished,  he  went  to  the  bakery  and 
bought  a  loaf  of  bread  to  carry  home,  said,  "  It  is  too  bad  for 
those  little  children  to  go  to  school  without  their  dinner,  but  I 
will  have  a  nice  supper  for  them.  I  will  not  loiter  around,  but 
go  straight  back,  wash  up  the  dishes  and  have  tea  all  on  the 
table,  waiting  for  them." 

He  had  proceeded  but  a  few  steps,  however,  before  he  met  a 
gentleman  who  said,  "  I  have  bet  five  dollars  that  you  can  beat 
the  best  man  in  town  playing  chequers,  and,  as  there  is  a  crowd 
already  assembled  in  Dunn's  store,  to  witness  the  game,  come 
with  me  immediately  before  they  disperse." 

He  accepted  the  invitation,  and  house,  children  and  every- 
thing pertaining  to  his  responsibilities  as  housekeeper  were  for- 
gotten, till  he  heard  one  of  the  bystanders  remark  that  he  must 
go  to  his  tea,  as  he  had  promised  to  go  shopping  with  his  wife 
directly  after,  when  he  hurried  home  with  all  possible  speed, 
forgetting,  however,  the  bread  he  had  bought  for  the  children's 
supper. 

"  But  I  cannot  go  back,"  he  said,  mentally,  "it  is  so  late 
now.  I  can  put  soda  in  the  pancakes,  and  then  they  will  be  as 
good  as  ever.  What  a  wonder  I  had  not  thought  of  this  before !" 

So  he  went  in,  made  up  a  fire,  walked  to  the  pantry,  took  a 
handful  of  this  commodity  and  threw  it  into  the  pail  of  batter. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  l8l 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  I'll  warrant  them  to  be  good  ;  that  is  the 
way  mother  used  to  do,  and  it  is  a  nice  way,  too." 

But  he  was  saved  all  further  trouble,  as  Blanche  came  into 
the  room  and  said,  "  We  have  all  been  to  supper,  papa.  Mrs. 
Ashton  brought  some  oysters  for  mamma,  and  gave  us  all  a 
dish." 

"I'm  very  glad  of  that,  for  I'm  tired  ;  so  I'll  read  my  news- 
paper, sweep  up  a  little  and  go  to  bed,  as  I  must  be  up  early  in 
the  morning  to  attend  to  my  housework.  Things  do  not  look 
very  well  here  just  now,  but  wait  till  to-morrow,  and  then  see." 
And  in  anticipation  he  beheld  every  board  in  the  floor  as  white 
as  snow  ;  the  pantry  transformed  into  a  model  place  of  neat- 
ness, all  his  baking  done  up  by  noon,  at  least,  and  the  dinner 
on  the  table  waiting  for  the  children  when  the  clock  struck 
twelve. 

It  was  nine ;  the  sun  was  streaming  through  the  shutters 
when  he  awoke  next  morning.  Thinking  of  his  day's  work  he 
hurried  up  and  went  out  to  his  tasks.  Breakfast  over,  the  first 
thing  to  be  attended  to  was  his  bread,  but  on  examination  he 
exclaimed.  "Oh,  how  sour  !  What  can  I  do?"  He  bethought 
him  a  moment.  "  Why,  that  is  easily  remedied,  I'll  serve  them 
as  I  did  the  pancakes — put  in  soda.  Let's  see,  a  teacup  full, 
that  is  precisely  what  mother  would  use  for  four  loaves,  and 
that  is  precisely  what  I  shall  make  ;  but  to  be  perfectly  sure  I 
am  right,  I  will  go  in  and  ask  Elice,  for  she  is  a  good  cook  if 
she  has  a  mind  to  be,  if  she  is  not  fit  for  anything  else." 

"  One  teaspoon  full,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  I  thought  I  was  right,"  he  went  out  repeating — "  one 
teacup  full — it  will  be  none  too  much.  I  knew  it  would  be 
just  what  mother  would  use  ;  just  a  teacup  full  will  make  them 
light  and  nice."  So  he  went  to  the  soda  dish  once  more,  and, 
finding  a  coffee  cup,  he  filled  that,  to  be  sure  he  had  enough, 
and  threw  it  into  his  tray  of  bread. 

He  then  mixed  his  crust  and  beat  his  eggs.    He  had  made  up 


1 82  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

his  mind  to  have  custard  pies,  as  they  would  look  so  nicely 
when  frosted,  and  he  wished  to  excel  in  everything  he  did. 

"A  cup  of  sugar  for  each,"  he  thought.  "Yes,  that  is  the 
rule  that  mother  has. "  So  he  went  once  more  to  the  pantry  ; 
but,  as  it  is  quite  easy  to  be  mistaken,  got  salt  instead  and  mixed 
with  the  milk  for  his  pies. 

"  Pretty  well  under  way,"  he  said  as  he  placed  them  into  the 
large  oven  with  his  bread  which  was  now  light  enough. 

"  What  a  wonderful  man  people  would  take  me  for  if  they 
only  knew  what  I  have  been  about !  Just  to  think,  do  business 
equal  to  any  lawyer,  and  actually  take  the  place  of  a  French 
cook !  There  is  nothing  like  having  brains,  and  your  head 
level.  I  will  go  now  and  get  my  turkey  and  oysters,  I  can 
cook  them  equal  to  the  best  of  them  ;  behind  no  one  in  any- 
thing." 

So  he  went  to  the  market  and  selected  his  fowl ;  then  to  the 
grocery,  for  other  things  needed.  This  time  he  hurried  home, 
however,  as  he  had  the  bread  on  his  mind,  and  got  there  just  in 
time  to  take  it  from  the  oven,  when  it  had  become  a  lovely 
brown ;  the  pies  were  baked  admirably  also,  and  never  prouder 
man  existed  when  he  beheld  everything,  as  he  thought,  in  such 
beautiful  style. 

But  it  was  afternoon  already,  and  no  sweeping,  dusting  or 
anything  had  been  done  to  bring  about  a  particle  of  order  in 
the  house,  and  the  children  were  crying  for  their  dinner,  every 
dish  in  the  house  still  dirty ;  while  all  the  spiders,  pots  and 
kettles  stood  in  a  circle  around  the  stove  left  there  to  be  handy 
and  still  unwashed  ;  but  which,  he  said,  must  all  be  put  in  their 
places  before  the  company  arrived  on  the  morrow. 

"Well,  well,  well,"  he  sighed  when  evening  came,  "  I  never 
would  have  believed  that  the  little  work  there  is  in  this  house, 
could  fatigue  one  so,  and  see  what  is  before  me  yet !  But  I  can 
finish  up  in  the  morning  when  I  am  rested,  and  never  feel  it — 
bake  the  turkey,  dress  the  children,  and — I  don't  think  the  floor 
looks  very  badly — sweep  up  in  the  dining-room  and  let  the  rest 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  183 

go ;  for  where  is  the  man  who  ever  notices  a  house  ?  if  they  get 
a  good,  square  meal,  that  is  all  they  think  of,  all  I  care  for,  any 
way."  So  he  sat  down  again,  to  read  his  newspaper  and  rest, 
and  thought  no  more  about  his  work,  until  he  was  reminded 
the  children  wanted  their  supper ;  so,  putting  them  off  with 
some  of  their  baker's  bread,  and  butter,  he  bade  them  go  to 
bed  and  not  bother  him  any  more  with  their  noise. 

The  next  morning  he  arose  cross  and  sullen.  "I  wish,"  he 
said  to  himself,  "I  hadn't  invited  people  to  dine  with  me; 
what  a  fool  I  have  made  of  myself!  but  it  is  done  now,  and  I'll 
show  them  yet." 

"  Children,  we  shall  have  a  splendid  dinner  to-day,  so  you 
can  take  a  piece  of  bread  and  butter  again  for  your  breakfast ; 
or,  if  you  rather,  some  of  those  pancakes  and  molasses." 

They  chose  the  former;  so,  after  satisfying,  as  best  they 
could,  their  appetites  with  this  kind  of  fare,  went  again  to 
school  with  sorry  faces. 

"  Come  back  precisely  at  noon,  as  I  wish  to  dress  you  up 
before  dinner,  which  will  not  be  till  two  o'clock." 

"Yes,  sir,"  they  all  replied. 

One  o'clock  came.  "I  will  now  set  my  table,  to  be  sure 
everything  will  be  in  readiness,  so  not  to  delay  my  company ; 
for  of  all  things  I  have  ever  talked  about,  it  was  punctuality  in 
meals."  But  in  vain  he  looked  for  a  clean  tablecloth;  they 
were  scarce,  any  way,  at  his  home,  and  every  one  was  soiled. 

"Oh!  what  shall  I  do  ?  The  very  best  one  is  covered  with 
tea  stains  and  molasses !  Well,  I  can  put  the  platters  and  soup 
dishes  over  the  worst  places,  and  what  does  it  matter?  for  it  is 
not  the  tablecloth  they  are  going  to  eat,  and  they  will  never 
notice  it  any  way." 

So  he  did  his  best,  which  when  he  had  finished,  presented  the 
appearance  of  anything  but  order  or  style.  He  then  went  for 
the  vegetables  and  meat.  "It  is  now  within  a  few  minutes  of 
the  time  and  I  will  have  every  single  thing  complete,  so  there 
will  be  no  ringing  bells — bless  me,  whom  would  I  call? — jump- 


184  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

ing  up  from  the  table  after  I  am  seated ;  and  they  will  never 
mistrust  I  have  been  the  getter  up  of  this  meal,  for  I  would  like, 
when  they  have  eaten  heartily,  praising  the  food,  which  un- 
doubtedly they  will,  to  tell  them  it  is  all  of  my  own  manufac- 
ture ;  that  my  wife  lies  sick  in  the  bed ;  girl  gone ;  and  it  is  I, 
myself,  individually."  And  here  he  drew  up  proudly  before  a 
mirror  which  had  been  so  besmeared  with  dust,  that  it  did  not 
reveal  the  soot  which  bespattered  his  face. 

"Just  in  time!"  he  exclaimed;  "they  are  coming.  Oh! 
la!  sus!  dear,  me!  I  forgot  the  young  ones,  where  are  they? 
ain't  washed,  ain't  dressed,  ain't  nothing!  Here,  children, 
havn't  time  now,  to  fix  you  up,  visitors  are  most  here ;  so  you 
go  up  stairs,  and  stay  there  till  they  go  away." 

Then  he  remembered  he  had  not  swept ;  so  he  caught  the 
broom  just  in  time  to  brush  all  the  dust  up  into  one  corner  of 
the  room,  and  place  the  broom  in  front  of  it.  When  they  arrived 
and  he  went  to  welcome  them  with  all  the  blandness  of  which 
he  was  capable,  he  looked  more  like  a  frightened  hen  than  oth- 
erwise. 

"How  do  you  do?  looking  well,  Clayton,"  said  the  judge  ; 
"but  what  is  the  excitement?"  while  Attorney  Winthrop 
smiled,  and  asked  him  if  he  had  been  to  any  large  fires  lately.  '" 

"No, — no, — not  as  I  know  of;  the  fact  is,  there  have  not 
been  any  here  for  a  long  time ! " 

"Well,  gentlemen,  our  dinner  is  ready,  and  waiting,"  Mr. 
Clayton  said,  after  a  few  minutes  had  elapsed. 

All  seated  around  the  table,  he  commenced  carving  the  tur- 
key, when,  to  his  chagrin,  he  found  he  had  left  the  vegetables 
on  the  stove,  over  a  very  hot  fire. 

"Excuse  me,  please,"  he  said,  with  a  very  polite  bow,  and 
proceeded  to  the  kitchen,  where  he  found  they  were  all  burned 
to  a  crisp. 

He  was  about  to  utter  an  oath ;  but,  remembering  the  pres- 
ence of  his  guests,  he  restrained  himself,  and  returned  to  the 
dining  room,  saying  to  himself,  "Well,  who  cannot  be  satisfied 


THOSE   ORPHANS. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  1 8$ 

with  what  there  is  left,  ought  to  go  without  dinner."  He  looked 
again  over  the  table  and  found  he  had  neglected  to  buy  crackers 
for  the  oysters.  "Well,  that  can't  be  helped  now;  they  can 
put  some  of  this  beautiful  bread  into  their  soup :  it  will  taste 
just  as  well." 

They  all  said  they  did  not  eat  them,  so  he  removed  the 
dishes  and  returned  to  carving  the  turkey. 

He  passed  this  around,  then  the  bread  and  butter,  which,  with 
a  few  scorched  potatoes  and  the  celery,  were  all  that  they  had 
for  dinner  aside  from  the  dessert,  which  he  had  prided  himself 
upon  with  its  beautiful,  snowy  frosting,  fit  to  set  before  a 
queen. 

The  fowl  happened  to  be  a  very  old  one,  and  very  hard  to  be 
masticated  to  be  made  suitable  to  be  taken  into  the  stomach  ; 
and  so  it  was  but  very  little  of  this  that  the  gentlemen  ven- 
tured to  eat ;  they  thought  they  would  try  the  bread  and  butter. 
The  bread  was  pretty  highly  colored,  but  they  presumed  it 
would  be  eatable. 

The  judge  tasted  it;  but  when  he  bit  on  one  of  the  hard 
lumps  of  soda,  his  countenance  wore  anything  but  that  serene, 
placid  composure  for  which  it  was  characterized ;  while  Attor- 
ney Winthrop  seeing  the  joke  but  not  feeling  it,  put  on  a  broad 
grin,  which  he  could  not  well  avoid. 

Blanche  thrust  her  head  out  of  the  stair  door  at  that  moment 
and  said,  "  We  are  awful  hungry,  papa,  please  tant  we  have  our 
dinner?"  little  Robin  yelling,  "I  mos'  starved  to  deph,  papa; 
don't  let  mans  eat  every  sing  up  zere  be  !  " 

The  jug  of  molasses  he  had  kept  in  the  stairway,  because  it 
was  the  handiest,  and  the  child's  face  was  literally  covered  with 
it.  Walter  Clayton's  rage  was  unbounded;  still  he  answered 
them  in  as  gentle  tones  as  he  could  assume.  "Go  back,  dar- 
lings, for  a  few  moments,  you  shall  soon  come  down;  "  hoping 
thereby,  that  these  gentlemen  would  not  only  be  convinced  of 
his  equanimity  of  temper,  but  his  great  faculty  for  governing 


1 86  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

his  family  by  the  laws  of  gentleness  and  love,  of  which  they 
had  so  often  heard  him  boast,  and  whom  of  all  men  he  would 
rather  impress  favorably,  for  many  reasons.  First,  one  was  the 
high  judge  of  the  county  courts ;  much  better  that  he  made  him 
believe  he  was  a  gentleman,  and  a  good  man,  affectionate  in  his 
family,  than  the  reports  that  had  possibly  come  to  his  ears ;  as 
they  had  been  afloat  in  all  the  surrounding  country  for  years, 
that  he  was  one  of  the  most^miserly,  tyrannical,  and  dishonest 
men  in  the  world ;  that  the  very  breath  he  drew  was  contami- 
nated with  villainy :  for  then,  he  might  receive  favors — not  ex- 
actly this  ;  but  if  he  was  himself  impressed  with  his  moral 
worth,  how  much  easier  it  would  be  for  him  to  charge  a  jury 
in  his  behalf,  than  if  his  mind  had  been  set  against  him ;  while 
Attorney  Winthrop  being  his  lawyer,  and  as  honest  a  man  as 
ever  lived,  could  plead  his  cause  with  far  better  success,  if  he 
felt  his  client  was  sound,  with  cin  irreproachable  character ;  for 
truth,  or  what  a  person  supposes  to  be  truth,  pleads  far  more 
eloquently  than  idle  words,  which  a  man  does  not  himself  be- 
lieve. And  for  these  reasons  Mr.  Clayton  wished  to  do  his 
best,  and  did  try  very  hard  upon  this  day — memorable  to  him, 
never  to  be  forgotten,  but  which  haunted  him  like  a  spectre,  as 
long  as  he  lived — to  ingratiate  himself  into  the  good  graces  of 
these  two  popular  men.  But  he  overdid  the  matter  when  he 
spoke  so  sweetly  to  the  children,  as  they  were  unused  to  the 
voice  ;  so,  taking  advantage  of  their  father's  lenity,  they  began 
to  whine,  and  finally  proposed  to  go  down,  whether  or  not,  and 
get  their  dinner,  thinking  papa  wouldn't  care  much,  and  if  he 
did,  would  not  say  anything  cross  or  unkind  before  those 
strange  gentlemen. 

"You  halloo  again,  Robin,  and  see  what  he  says,"  urged 
Charlie.  "  Mebby  he'll  say  come  down  and  git  somethin',  for 
I'm  dying  this  minit  for  my  dinner." 

"Say,  papa,  tell  mens  not  to  eat  sings  all  up,  wez  awful  hun- 
dry,  tant  we  turn  down  now  ?  " 

This  time  he  thrust  his  head  out  a  little  too  far,  lost  his  bal- 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  187 

ance  and  came  tumbling  down  stairs,  his  hair  uncombed,  daubed 
with  molasses  and  covered  all  over  with  feathers.  The  two  boys 
had  been  occupying  their  time,  first  with  the  molasses  jug  and 
then  jumping  into  a  barrel  of  feathers,  till  you  could  scarcely 
tell  but  they  belonged  to  a  new  race  of  birds  or  fowls. 

This  was  too  much  for  Winthrop  ;  he  now  indulged  in  the 
heartiest  laugh  he  ever  had  in  his  life.  He  had  been  wanting  to 
relieve  his  proclivities  for  merriment  ever  since  he  had  been  in 
the  house,  but  his  good  breeding  restrained  him  ;  now,  this  was 
a  glorious  opportunity ;  no  one  would  consider  him  rude,  espe- 
cially if  he  told  an  anecdote  about  this  same  little  fellow,  or 
what  he  did  when  he  was  over  once  before. 

"This  incident  reminds  me  of  the  time  in  the  summer 
when  this  same  little  chap  came  in  covered  with  feathers.  His 
mamma  asked  him  where  he  had  been,  when  he  replied,  'To 
ze  barn  settin'  on  a  hen's  nest.  Will  I  hatch  out  boys  zer  hens  ? ' 
when  he  started  back  to  get  at  his  work  again." 

The  judge's  dignity  gave  way;  his  sour  looks  vanished,  for  he 
had  felt  a  little  cross  ever  since  he  had  tasted  the  soda,  and  he 
made  up  his  mind  he  would  enjoy  himself,  get  a  little  sport  out 
of  the  day,  for  that  was  what  he  came  for,  as  well  as  Winthrop. 
So  the  two  laughed  long  and  loud,  not  so  much  at  the  anec- 
dote, but  at  the  ridiculous  sights  that  everywhere  met  their 
vision. 

Robin,  frightened,  scampered  back  when  his  father  asked  him 
if  he  were  hurt.  Going  to  the  door,  he  gave  them  one  of  his 
savage  looks,  which  quieted  them  only  for  a  few  moments 
longer,  however,  when  they  all  came  down  stairs,  revealing 
their  filth  and  rags,  and  with  pleading  voices  and  tearful  eyes, 
said,  ' '  Please,  papa,  won't  you  give  us  something  ?  for  you 
know  we  haint  had  nothin'  but  sour  pancakes  and  molasses  for 
three  or  four  days,  and  you  promised  we  should  have  such  a 
lovely  dinner." 

"  Do,  do,"  little  Robin  repeated;   "for  we  mos'  dead,  papa." 

This  was  too  much  for  his  rising  wrath.     He  sprang  from  the 


1 88  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

table,  grasped  the  two  boys  by  the  hair  of  the  head  and  thrust 
them  into  a  dark  cellar-way ;  then  ordered  Blanche  to  follow 
them. 

"There  now,"  he  said,  "judge  or  no  judge,  you'll  find 
you'll  have  to  behave  yourselves  better  than  you  do,  and  mind 
what  I  say.  Didn't  I  tell  you  to  stay  up  stairs  until  we  were 
through  dinner  ?  You,  you  dirty  little  whelps  !  Never  were 
children  so  trying  as  you  have  been  to-day ;  now  peep,  and 
I'll  rawhide  you  !  " 

His  fiery  passions  had  got  the  ascendancy,  and,  instead  of 
the  angel  of  all  goodness,  which  he  vainly  endeavored  to  show 
himself,  he  opened  up  his  heart  and  portrayed  his  real  charac- 
ter ;  revealed  to  these  gentlemen  his  terrible,  almost  diabolical 
disposition. 

There  was  silence  for  a  while.  At  length,  his  wrath  cooling, 
he  said,  "It  is  very  trying  to  have  children  behave  as  mine 
have  to-day,  and  I  cannot  quite  understand  it.  The  only 
explanation  that  I  can  give  is  that  I  have  been  absent  a  consid- 
erable lately,  and  their  stepmother  has  managed  them  so  badly, 
whipped  them  for  the  most  trivial  offense,  and  then,  again,  let 
them  have  their  own  way,  till  they  are  spoiled.  She  takes  no 
interest  in  them  ;  does  not  care  in  the  least  for  the  little  things. 
I  never  saw  just  such  a  woman,  she  takes  the  strangest  freaks 
imaginable ;  providing  everything  does  not  go  to  suit  her,  she 
takes  to  her  bed  and  does  not  get  up  in  several  days.  She  has 
one  of  those  spells  upon  her  now.  Oh,  dear  !  I  do  have  so 
much  care;  I  almost  fear  I  shall  become  insane,  myself,  some 
time  !  Why,  I  cannot  keep  a  girl  very  long  at  a  time,  she 
misuses  them  so,  if  they  are  ever  so  good  ;  and  this  is  the  rea- 
son they  do  not  like  to  work  for  us  ;  and  so  I  thought,  for  the 
sake  of  peace'  for  a  few  days,  at  least,  I  would  do  the  work 
myself.  I  could  do  it  well  enough,  but  she  needs  so  much 
waiting  upon,  so  dreadful  particular  and  whimsical  with  all  the 
rest,  that  she  is  so  hard  to  be  suited." 

"Very  strange,"  said  the  judge. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  1 89 

"Quite  singular,"  Attorney  Winthrop  replied,  while  both 
looked  incredulously.  This  Mr.  Clayton  did  not  notice,  how- 
ever, and  continued,  "  It  is  a  delicate  subject  and  pains  me 
exceedingly  to  open  up  my  mind  to  you ;  but  I  trust  I  have 
your  sympathy,  for  you  can  hardly  conceive  what  I  have  under- 
gone since  I  was  married ;  and  the  worst  of  all,  that  I  was  so 
deceived  in  my  wife,  for  no  one  could  have  made  me  believe 
that  she  was  not  one  of  the  best  women  in  the  world ;  but  she 
will  steal  from  me  whenever  she  gets  a  chance,  take  my  money, 
give  away  my  clothes  to  every  old  beggar  that  comes  along,  and 
has  proved  herself  in  every  way  unworthy  of  the  position  to 
which  I  have  raised  her." 

"A  fine  looking  woman,  Clayton,  and  if  I  am  able  to  judge 
from  physiognomy,  I  should  say  she  was  directly  opposite  the 
character  you  have  given  her — but — "  drawing  a  long  breath, 
"we  cannot  always  tell  by  a  person's  looks;  a  very  bad  one 
may  manage  to  cover  up  his  sins  by  insinuating  smiles  and 
honied  phrases.  If  such  is  the  case,  as  you  have  affirmed,  it  is 
a  very  bad  state  of  affairs,  and  I  am  sorry  for  you." 

"O  judge,"  he  said  solemnly  and  in  such  measured,  sorrow- 
ful tones,  "that  woman  will  ruin  me!  I  get  her  everything 
that  heart  can  wish,  and  still  she  will  run  me  in  debt  for  things 
unnecessary,  and  oftentimes  converts  clothing  I  buy  for  the  chil- 
dren into  money.  I  will  own  to  you  that  I  am  a  different  per- 
son from  what  I  was  when  my  first  wife  was  alive,"  and  here  he 
came  near  breaking  down  with  crocodile  tears.  ' '  But  she  was 
an  angel ;  all  her  influence  over  me  was  for  good ;  but  my  dis- 
position, which  was  once  the  very  best,  has  soured,  as  I  am 
ashamed  to  say  was  exhibited  a  short  time  ago,  and  which  I 
so  regret  now-a-days.  Would  you  advise  me  to  live  with  such 
a  woman?  Could  I  get  a  divorce  under  these  circumstances?" 

"  Have  you  ever  tried  gentleness  and  persuasion?  A  woman 
will  submit  to  the  tyrannical  rules  of  a  man,  generally,  provid- 
ing he  spices  them  up  with  love,  now  and  then,  makes  her 
believe  it  is  essential  for  his  happiness  for  her  to  yield ;  but  you 


IQO  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

cannot  drive  her,  she  will  baulk  in  the  harness,  and  all  the 
powers  of  darkness  cannot  get  her  along  ;  while,  if  she  beholds 
but  one  ray  of  real,  genuine  sympathy  or  affection,  the  slightest 
thread  would  be  sufficient  to  guide  her  ;  they  would  go  through 
fire  and  water,  lie  down  in  a  dungeon  if  necessary,  die  for  such 
a  husband.  Now  my  experience  is,  knowing  the  sex  as  I  do, 
having  had  the  opportunity  that  I  have  in  seeing  this  tested, 
that  a  man  is  generally  to  blame  in  desiring  a  divorce." 

"  Sometimes  that  is  so,  but  not  in  this  instance  ;  for  you  can- 
not conceive  of  the  trouble  that  woman  of  mine  causes  me, 
and  such  terrible  treatment  as  my  poor,  little  motherless  chil- 
dren receive  at  her  hands ;  why,  the  neighbors  have  taken  it 
up,  and  out  of  a  sense  of  duty,  informed  me." 

"  Your  neighbors  may  have  accused  her  falsely.  Who  told 
you?  It  might  help  you  some,  if  reliable  people  should  testify 
to  her  cruelty." 

"I  do  not  like  to  say,  but  I  can  get  good  proof." 

"And  who?"  said  the  judge  with  affected  earnestness. 

"  My  hired  girl,  as  truthful  and  honest  a  servant  as  a  person 
could  wish  to  have,  and  Mrs.  Hezekiah  Tattum." 

"  What  do  they  know  ?  " 

"  That  she  put  them  in  a  dark  cellar-way  and  kept  them  there 
all  of  one  day,  without  a  mouthful  to  eat,  and  was  in  the  habit 
of  doing  this  with  other  cruelties,  poor,  little,  motherless 
orphans ! " 

"Where  are  they  now?" 

Mr.  Clayton  colored ;  he  had  actually  forgotten,  through  his 
earnest  and  exciting  conversation,  all  about  their  waiting  for 
their  dinner  under  a  dark  stairway.  He  did  not  reply. 

"Is  that  the  place  you  thrust  them  a  moment  ago?  or  have 
you  another  jail?  " 

"The  same." 

"Get  a  divorce,  of  course,"  he  said  ironically.  "She  must 
be  a  heathen,  indeed,  any  woman  who  would  be  guilty  of  starv- 
ing her  own  offspring  and  keeping  them  in  such  a  place  as 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  IQI 

that,  is  not  fit  for  the  name  of  wife  or  mother ;  a  man  who 
knows  of  no  better  mode  of  punishment  than  to  lift  a  child  by 
the  hair  of  its  head,  is  not  fit  for  a  husband  or  father:  you  bet- 
ter separate." 

The  children  heard  the  conversation  and  commenced  to  whis- 
per among  themselves.  "  It's  a  bid  lie  !  aint  it,  Charlie  ?"  said 
Blanche.  "  Mamma  never  starved  uth,  nor  put  uth  down  thel- 
ler  nuther." 

"No,  she  didn't,  nor  licked  us.  I  wish  I  dare  tell  that  man 
so;  and  I  will,  see  now." 

By  this  time,  the  father  bade  them  come  forth,  and  said,  "  I 
am  very  sorry  I  have  to  deal  so  harshly  with  my  little  children  ; 
you  can  now  have  your  dinner ;  another  time  I  hope  you  will 
behave  better,  and  then  I  shall  not  have  to  scold  you  at  all." 

He  had  occasion  to  leave  the  room  for  a  few  moments,  when 
Charlie  slid  up  to  the  judge  and  said,  "  Mamma  is  sick — is 
awful  sick ;  she  fainted  clear  away  t'other  night  when  papa  was 
fighting  with  us,  and  cried  'cause  he  licked  us  so  awful  hard  ; 
she  never  licked  none  of  us,  and  it's  a  great  big  lie,  whoever 
said  she  did  ;  and  she  never  in  her  life  shutted  us  up,  nuther, 
nowhere.  We  all  love  our  mamma,  we  does,  and  Mrs.  Tattum 
tells  big  lies  about  her;  and  don't  believe  a  word  she  says. 
You  won't,  will  you  ?  Blanche  told  me  to  ask  you  what  divorce 
meant.  I  wish  mamma  was  well,  and  then  we  wouldn't  have 
to  eat  sour  pancakes  and  molasses  all  the  time  ;  but  papa  ain't 
used  to  doin'  work  much,  and  he  never  gits  us  anything  but 
them  nasty  sour  things.  Oh,  dear  !  oh,  dear  !  I  do  wish  my 
mamma  would  get  well.  Papa  told  the  hired  girl  she  needn't 
mind  a  word  she  said  if  she  didn't  want  to.  He  used  to  lick 
us  for  sassing  her,  but  let's  us  sass  mamma  all  we're  a  mind  to; 
but  I  don't  want  to.  Robin  tells  her,  sometimes,  he  won't  do 
it,  when  she  asks  him  to  do  anything,  and  papa  says  that's 
right ;  tell  her  again  so,  every  time  she  asks  you.  Hettie  told 
papa  mamma  licked  us,  and  he  told  us  to  fight  her  back  like 
blazes,  if  she  teched  us  again  ;  that  she  wan't  our  muzzer,  at  all 


192  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

— nothing  but  a  stepmuzzer,  and  no  bizness  with  us  at  all. 
Then  he  kissed  Hettie.  Do  you  know  who  she  is?  Why, 
she  used  to  be  our  hired  girl.  He  kissed  her  lots  and  bags  of 
times  ;  for  Blanche  and  I  seen  him  ;  he  didn't  know  it,  though, 
but  we  peeped  through  that  hole  yonder,  do  you  see  ?  what's 
in  the  wall  that  goes  into  the  kitchen  ;  and  we  heard  him  say 
he  liked  her  awful  well — a  thousand  times  better  than  he  did 
our  mamma,  or  any  other  body.  But  I  likes  my  mamma  the 
best,  for  she  made  me  a  new  pair  of  trowsers  out  of  papa's 
old  ones  ;  and  I  was  awful  tickled  to  git  'em,  for  you  see 
these  here  ones  are  all  wared  out,  and  I  never  could  go  to 
meetin'  or  Sunday  school  without  'em.  Do  you  like  my 
mamma  ?  She's  so  awful  good ;  she  setted  up  most  all  night  to 
make  them  pants.  Shall  I  go  and  get  'em  and  show  'em  to 
you  ?  She  made  Robin  some  out  of  another  pair,  and  Blanche 
a  new  dress  out  of  one  of  hern.  Wasn't  she  good  ?  Papa  jaws 
her  awful,  sometimes,  and — and  (getting  up  closer)  won't  you 
never  tell  ? — licks  her,  too.  I  wouldn't  told  on  him,  but  he 
uses  us  awful  sometimes  when  we're  at  home,  and  then  pets  us 
on  the  street.  I  don't  like  him,  if  he  is  my  fozzer." 

"  Children  and  fools  generally  tell  the  truth,"  said  the  judge 
turning  to  Attorney  Winthrop.  "I  believe  every  word  the 
child  says.  That  man  is  a  villain  ;  and  his  wife  and  children 
suffer  more  from  his  ill  treatment  than  any  person  is  aware. 
You  never  saw  a  greater  ebullition  of  temper  than  he  exhibited 
a  few  moments  ago.  Of  course  the  children  were  trying,  but 
it  was  very  unreasonable  for  him  to  expect  they  were  to  stay  up 
those  stairs  contentedly,  when  they  had  had  nothing  to  eat  since 
breakfast." 

"True,  I  am  as  hungry  as  a  bear,  myself.  Shall  we  go  to 
the  hotel  and  call  for  our  dinner  ?" 

"We'll  take  an  early  supper;  order  it  by  four.  Can  you 
stand  it?  " 

"I  guess  so,"  said  Winthrop,  smiling,  "I'm  better  on  a  fast 
than  eating  old  fowls  and  saleratus;  I  never  did  like  them." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  193 

"We  must  go,"  said  the  judge,  when  Mr.  Clayton  entered 
the  room. 

"Don't  hurry,"  he  said  blandly;  "but  if  you  must  leave  so 
soon,  call  again — both  of  you,  whenever  you  are  over.  Please 
don't  repeat  what  I  have  said,  but  ponder  the  matter;  if  you 
think  there  is  any  chance  for  me,  please  let  me  know." 

"  I've  no  right  to  meddle  with  the  matter,  and  would  not  if  I 
could.  Do  right  by  your  wife,  and  I)  think  :'you  will  have  no 
further  trouble;  I  have  heard  her  highly  spoken  of." 

"  And  I, "  said  Attorney  Winthrop,  "have  been  often  told 
that  she  was  a  very  pleasant  lady,"  smiling,  "too  good  for  you, 
Clayton,  by  far ;  but  a  person  may  smile  and  smile  and  be  a 
villain,  and  who  knows  what  is  what?  Call  at  my  office  when 
you  are  over." 

"I'll  do  so." 

In  a  moment  more  they  were  bending  their  footsteps  toward 
the  hotel. 

"A  leaf  for  your  diary,  judge." 

"And  yours,"  he  answered.  "Alas!  for  degraded  human 
nature.  If  we  were  in  the  habit  of  being  bought,  we 
might  make  a  speck  out  of  that  chap.  The  truth  is,  he"  has 
fallen  in  love  with  some  other  girl,  and  would  like  to  get  rid  of 
his  wife.  I  have  not  the  least  confidence  in  him ;  have  seen  too 
much.  He  would  get  a  divorce,  if  he  could  ;  leave  her  penniless; 
and  let  her  go  to  the  almshouse,  if  she  failed  to  support  herself. 
Knowing  him  as  I  do,  I  have  no  sympathy  with  him  ;  for  I 
have  it  from  reliable  authority,  that  she  never  failed  to  do  her 
part ;  and  if  he  was  but  a  tithe  as  good,  he  would  be  far  better 
than  he  is.  It  is  astonishing  to  what  depths  of  villainy  he 
plunges,  keeping  just  inside  the  pales  of  the  law,  but  doing 
everything  in  his  power  to  entrap  the  unwary ;  to  entice  them 
into  his  clutches,  and  ruin  them  at  last.  No  wonder  that  such  a 
man  has  trouble  with  his  family !  I  presume  they  do  not  have 
what  they  want  to  eat  half  the  time,  and  he  a  millionaire  !  Shame 
on  such  a  degraded  specimen  of  humanity  !  " 


194  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Walter  Clayton  went  into  the  bedroom  where  his  wife  was. 
He  was  not  altogether  satisfied  with  the  results  of  the  day,  and 
he  felt  irritable  and  morose.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  seen 
her  since  morning,  and  in  that  length  of  time  had  not  asked, 
or  even  sent  a  messenger  to  look  after  her  wants. 

Mrs.  Ashton  had  been  with  her,  however,  the  most  of  the 
day;  had  brought  from  home  everything  in  the  shape  of  food 
for  her  comfort ;  had  cushioned  a  large  arm-chair  with  pillows  ; 
assisted  her  to  it,  and  had  just  placed  a  little  waiter  on  a  stand 
in  front  of  her,  filled  with  dishes  of  tempting  food,  and  was 
urging  her  to  partake.  She  was  better,  decidedly,  thanks  to 
this  kind  friend,  and  her  alone,  for  her  husband  had  not  given 
her  a  particle  of  attention  since  she  had  been  sick,  only  to  come 
in  now  and  then,  and  try  to  pick  up  a  quarrel  with  her,  saying, 
"I  wish  I  had  married  some  one  that  was  not  sick  everlastingly ; 
some  folks  are  always  grunting  around,  but  they  are  the  kind 
that  never  die;  "  and  then  repeating  words  of  a  low  chum  who 
had  a  great  deal  of  trouble  with  his  wife:  "Take  a  good 
woman,  and  she  is  sure  to  die ;  but  a  mean  one  cannot  be  killed 
with  a  club!  " 

"  How  do  you  like  housekeeping?"  Mrs.  Ashton  asked. 

An  oath  was  on  his  lips,  but  remembering  again  that  she  was 
the  wife  of  one  of  the  judges,  he  restrained  his  wrath,  and  an- 
swered, "All  right." 

"  Nothing  to  do,  I  suppose?  You  had  company  to  dinner?  " 
she  continued,  smiling. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  195 

"Go  to  h !  You  wish  to  insult  me,"  he  replied,  and, 

turning  on  his  heel,  left  the  room,  muttering,  "  I  wish  I  could 
exterminate  her !  always  around  when  she  is  not  wanted ; 
always  sticking  her  nose  into  other  people's  business.  I've  a 
notion  to  turn  her  out  of  the  house !  No,  no,  that  will  not  do, 
either.  Dear!  dear!  if  ever  a  man  had  trouble,  it's  I.  I  believe 
the  world  has  turned  against  me  ;  but  let  it,  haven't  I  my  money 
left  ?  But  what  is  money  without  friends  ? — well,  what  are 
friends  without  money  ?  Give  me  the  latter  always,  if  I  may 
not  have  but  one." 

He  then  went  to  a  large  safe  that  stood  in  one  corner  of  his 
room,  and  counted  over  his  treasures  by  thousands  of  dollars. 
Then  his  eyes  rested  on  all  the  gold  which  filled  the  little  draw- 
ers. "I'm  all  right  so  long  as  I  have  these,"  he  said,  "for 
I  can  buy  both  love  and  friendship  when  I  need  them.  This 
will  gain  my  lawsuits,  buy  up  juries  enough — the  judges — I 
wonder  if  I  would  dare  to  try  them  !  No,  no,  I  guess  not,  for  I 
never  did.  Money !  money  !  that's  the  lever  that  turns  the 
world !  I  can  bring  thousands  within  my  control  with  far  less 
than  the  amount  which  is  now  within  the  walls  of  this  ponder- 
ous iron  box.  Well,  well,  'tis  good  to  be  rich  ;  I  am  rich,  and 
let  the  rest  all  go.  Mrs.  Ashton  may  mock  me  with  her  taunt- 
ing words,  but  what  care  I  ?  If  I  choose  to  be  civil,  it  is  my  own 
business ;  if  not,  as  I  like  it ;  for  it  does  not  make  much  differ- 
ence— people  will  cringe,  and  cringe,  and  bow,  and  scrape  the 
same,  no  matter  how  they  are  treated.  Now,  the  preacher 
asked  me  for  fifty  dollars  to  help  put  that  addition  to  the 
church.  I  cursed  the  church  and  him,  before  he  ceased  his  im- 
portunities ;  and  I  thought  I  had  offended  him  so  deeply  that  he 
would  let  me  entirely  alone  after  this,  but  not  so,  he  was  sweeter 
than  ever  when  I  saw  him  next,  and  bowed  still  lower.  Then 
old  Green,  the  father,  I  call  him,  of  the  same  church  (for  it 
wouldn't  have  been  built  had^it  not  been  for  him),  asked  me  to 
help  sustain  the  Gospel ;  we  had  quite  a  long  conversation 
about  the  matter,  and  in  the  round  I  abused  him,  I  thought,  a 


196  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

considerably,  but  hfe  didn't  take  it  so  ;  and  'twas  not  long  before 
he  actually  came  to  my  office  to  ask  my  opinion  on  some  point 
of  law ;  I  thought  'twas  begging  again  for  the  church,  and  in 
rage  I  told  him,  before  he  named  his  business,  never  to  come 
to  me  again,  for  I  would  not  give  him  a  cent ;  I  considered  the 
whole  of  them  nothing  but  a  set  of  hypocrites.  Well,  I  sup- 
posed he  would  never  speak  again,  but  what  should  he  do,  but 
give  his  hat  an  extra  touch  the  next  time  I  saw  him  ?  Well, 
I'm  some  that  way,  when  I  meet  a  richer  man  than  myself,  or 
one  that  might,  some  time  or  other,  be  the  means  of  helping  to 
fill  my  coffers  a  little  fuller ;  so,  I  do  not  know  as  I  blame 
them." 

All  this  time  he  was  on  his  knees  in  front  of  his  safe. 

"Kneeling  to  your  god?"  said  Mrs.  Ashton,  as  she  passed 
through  the  room  on  her  way  to  the  pump  to  obtain  a  fresh 
draught  of  water  for  Elice.  She  would  not  have  said  it,  but 
her  indignation  had  gained  the  mastery  of  her,  when  she  saw 
Walter  Clayton's  hoarded  pile,  and  knew  his  family  often  wanted 
the  necessaries  of  life,  when  they  should  be  supplied  with  every 
luxury. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet.      "What  do  you  mean,  madam?" 

"That  you  worship  the  'mammon  of  unrighteousness;'  that 
you  hoard  your  wealth  while  you  refuse  to  get  the  comforts  of 
life  for  your  family." 

"You  are  a  liar!  and  if  you  were  a  man  I  would  put  you  out 
of  doors.  What  do  I  ever  keep  from  them?" 

"Wine  and  medicine  from  your  sick  wife.  The  doctor  said 
a  little  tonic  would  restore  her ;  she  asked  you  to  provide  it ; 
you  told  her  you  would  not';  and  for  the  past  week  she  might 
have  starved  had  it  not  been  for  me,  for  you  have  never  taken 
her  a  cup  of  tea  or  coffee  in  all  that  time,  nor  asked  her  how 
she  was.  Such  treatment  would  drive  me  distracted,  and  I 
wonder  she  is  not  dead!" 

"She  told  you  all  this?" 

"No,  she  has  said  nothing.     I  heard  you  refuse  the  things'of 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  197 

which  I  have  spoken ;  and  I  hastened  to  my  cupboard  where  I 
always  keep  a  supply,  to  procure  them  for  her.  You  are  as 
heartless  as  the  savage !  and  it's  a  good  thing  that  you  do  not 
have  me  to  deal  with,  instead  of  your  amiable  wife.  Think 
you  I  would  brook  all  your  ill  treatment,  and  say  nothing,  as 
she  does?  That  ?s  where  she  makes  a  mistake;  knowing  as 
much  as  she  probably  does  of  all  your  villainy,  I  would  cause 
you  to  disgorge  thousands  of  your  gold,  or  I  would  not  keep 
your  secrets.  If  I  lived  with  you  at  all,  which  I  think  I  could 
not  do,  I  would  use  them  as  a  whip  to  lash  your  treacherous 
hide;  I  would  bring  you  down  from  your  lofty  pedestal;  you'd 
treat  me  better,  or  I'd  tell  what  I  knew  of  you,  if  it  sent  you  to 
the  gloomy  prison ;  for  in  my  estimation,  that  is  the  only  place 
lit  for  a  fiend  incarnate  like  yourself!  " 

"  How  dare  you  utter  such  words?"  he  hissed  between  his 
teeth. 

"  How  dare  you  do  as  you  have  done?  I  know  more  than 
you  think." 

"  What  do  you  know?" 

"That  you  are  one  of  the  vilest  the  sun  ever  shown 
upon  !  " 

"  If  you  were  my  wife,  I'd  tame  you." 

"  Do  you  remember  to  whom  you  offered  the  thousand  dol- 
lar bill,  and  what  for  ?  " 

Walter  Clayton  turned  deadly  pale,  while  he  shook  like  a  leaf 
in  the  autumn  winds. 

"  Be  careful  how  you  tread  upon  my  toes,  or  you  will  crouch 
lower  than  you  ever  have  before!  Do  you  recall  that  bribe? 
You  have  made  the  innocent  weep  ;  you  have  wrung,  as  it  were, 
blood  from  their  lacerated  hearts  ;  you  have  stripped  them  of 
their  homes ;  and,  as  though  this  were  not  enough,  have  taken 
their  last  bed,  stove,  or  cow,  together  with  some  of  their  old 
clothes  that  were  scarce  fit  for  a  beggar  and  flung  them  into  an 
old  garret  to  rot,  having  no  use  for  them  !  And  what  can  you 
say  when  you  are  brought  to  an  account  to  that  great  tribunal 


198  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

from  whose  decision  there  can  be  no  appeal?  So  you  see,  it  is 
not  only  those  whom  you  should  love  and  cherish  as  the  apple 
of  your  eye  that  you  wrong,  but  every  one  that  gets  into  your 
power.  I  hate  you  ;  I  loathe  you !  I  would  not  eat  the  bread 
and  butter  bought  with  your  money  !  I  would  starve  first  before 
I  would  be  your  dependent — your  wife,  if  you  please ;  for  you 
make  a  servant  of  her — worse  than  that,  for  many  of  them  are 
better  used — a  slave  to  bend  and  bow  to  all  your  whims  and 
caprices !  If  she  fails,  if  she  does  not,  it's  all  the  same ;  her 
poor  heart  must  be  bled  anew,  day  after  day,  night  after  night, 
week  in  and  week  out,  through  all  the  year,  and  through  her 
whole  life  !  Shall  I  go  ?  Must  I  go  ? "  she  continued,  while 
her  lips  curled  with  the  deepest  scorn  of  which  a  person  is 
capable. 

"  Stay,  Mrs.  Ashton  ;  I  have  a  word  to  say,"  he  commenced 
with  great  meekness.  "  You  do  not  know  all  my  troubles  and 
trials ;  that  woman  of  mine  would  ruin  any  man  !  " 

"  Hold  !  How  so,  sir  ?  I  choose  to  espouse  the  cause  of  the 
innocent,  but  if  the  proof  can  be  brought,  my  mind  is  open  to 
conviction.  Commence  ;  tell  your  story." 

"  In  the  first  place," — stammering  and  coughing,  as  if  he  did 
not  know  what  to  say.  "Well,  now.  Well,  you  know,  your- 
self, she  has  been  sick  a  great  deal,  and  no  woman  that  is 
all  the  while  grunting  around  is  fit  for  a  wife." 

"  I  will  own  she  has  often  been  ill ;  then  was  the  time  she 
needed  the  most  tender  care.  Must  she  be  abused  because, 
for  a  few  days,  she  is  prohibited  from  being  the  lackey  of  a 
tyrannical  husband?  What  next  ?  Proceed." 

"  Elice  is  awful  extravagant,"  said  he. 

"  Eats  the  lean  meat  and  leaves  the  fat,  because  her  deli- 
cate organization  will  not  allow  her  to  do  otherwise ;  protests 
against  frozen  potatoes ;  thinks  it's  no  economy  to  use  them," 
she  answered  ironically. 

"  I  don't  want  her  to." 

' '  I  know  better  ;  you  cannot  deny  that  your  potatoes  and  all 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  199 

your  vegetables  are  frozen.     You  raised  a  hundred  bushels  ;  for 
fear  she  should  give  a  few  to  the   famishing  of  the  place,  you 
ordered   your  man  to  put  them   in  the  cellar  of  an  old  store- 
house ;   your  apples  also ;  both  this  moment  are  hard  as  flint. 
Your  family  must  eat  them  or  starve.       Mrs.   Clayton   remon- 
strated ;  it  did  no  good,  you  carried  the  day.     She  partook  of 
that   poisonous  food  (so  to  her,  at  least) ;  she  is  sick.     Who  is 
to  blame  ?     Have  you  any  more  to  say  ?  If  so,  speak  out" 
"She  gives  away  more  than  a  poor  man  can  earn." 
"  Have  you  ever  caught  her  at  this  business  ?  " 
"  By  no  means.      I  have  been  told,  and  I  know  her  generous 
nature  ;  she   never  saw  a  dog  hungry  but   she  fed  it.     Now  a 
person  cannot  give  to  all  the  beggars  in  creation  without  im- 
poverishing himself." 

"Are  you  impoverished?  Now,  you  hold  she  is  extravagant; 
that  she  gives  away  so  much.  How  is  it  that  you  now  count 
your  millions,  where  you  could  not  count  your  thousands  when 
you  were  married  ?  You  have  been  told  ;  by  whom  ?  Servants, 
that  you  raise  to  the  standard  of  equality ;  set  them  upon  a 
throne  above  your  wife ;  deliver  them  the  keys,  and  cause  her 
to  extend  the  sceptre  within  her  own  kingdom.  They  dispose 
of  your  goods,  to  their  liking;  say  it  is  your  innocent  wife; 
afterwards  confess  their  guilt;  you  forgive  them  without  the 
asking;  conscience-stricken,  they  go  home  to  their  mother. 
Another  one  of  your  informants — Mrs.  Tattum — snake-like  and 
more  to  blame  than  they,  lures  them  on  by  sweet  promises ; 
she  receives  the  stolen  goods,  and  to  screen  herself,  pours  into 
your  willing  ears  a  recital  of  the  depredations  of  your  wife  upon 
the  paltry  allowance  you  give  your  family.  Now,  you  do  not 
believe,  yourself,  any  of  the  stories  that  sometimes  are  circu- 
lated, that  you,  and  you  alone,  with  some  of  this  class  set  afloat 
respecting  her." 

"But  how  little  you  know  the  difference  between  her  and 
my  first  wife !  She  was  an  angel,  I  have  often  told  people  ;  and 


2OO  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

I  loved  her  so,  when  she  died,  I  would  like  to  have  been  buried 
with  her." 

"Perhaps  better  than  she  would  have  desired  you  to.  I 
know  she  was  good,  for  I  was  well  acquainted  with  her ;  but 
she  only  suffered  half  as  much  at  your  hands  as  the  present  one, 
because  she  did  not  live  with  you  half  as  long.  But  listen  to 
what  she  told  me  but  a  short  time  previous  to  her  death :  that 
she  could  not,  nor  would  not  spend  her  days  with  you ;  that 
you  were  jealous,  abusive,  tyrannical  and  stingy  to  meanness ; 
while  I  soothed  and  hushed  her  sobs,  as  best  I  could,  that  peo- 
ple should  not  hear  her  from  the  street." 

"Are  you  not  mistaken?"  he  said,  with  his  eyes  upon  the 
floor. 

"No.  I  could  write  a  book,  myself,  of  you,  and  there  would 
not  be  one  line  in  your  favor.  Now,  look  at  it,  you  are  a  mil- 
lionaire ;  you  have  one  old  stove  in  the  kitchen,  and  one  in  the 
sittingroom ;  you  have  forbidden  that  a  fire  should  be  kept  up 
in  both  rooms  at  a  time — the  former  unplastered — the  latter  but 
poorly  furnished.  What  can  you  call  yourself  but  a  miser,  and 
a  niggardly  one  at  that?  I  will  go,  now.'\ 

"I  hope  we  part  as  friends,"  he  said  meekly.  "  I  never  want 
any  hardness  with  my  neighbors.  Come  again,  Mrs.  Ashton  ; 
it  seems  so  pleasant  to  have  a  person  drop  in  at  any  hour  with- 
out formality;  and — and — well,  don't,  for  God  sake,  tell  about 
that  bribe!  for  it  really  was  not  intended  for  that.  I  suppose 
your  husband  told  you,  did  he  not?" 

"No  matter  how  I  knew  it;  you  want  to  keep  your  wicked 
tongue  from  uttering  untruths  about  your  wife,  and  behave 
yourself  better  than  you  ever  have,  or,  if  I  know  of  it,  I'll  show 
you  that  you  can  be  squared  by  the  common  law  of  the  land,  if 
you  do  not  choose  to  obey  the  moral  one!" — she  then  left. 

"Good  morning,"  he  said,  "step  in  this  afternoon  and  see 
my  wife';  you  are  always  welcome." 

She  went  home ;  he  returned  to  the  kitchen,  where  he  mut- 
tered curses  upon  her  interspersed  with  oaths  for  an  hour, 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  2OI 

wishing  she  was  dead.  Said  he,  "If  it  were  not  for  the  law,  I'd 
as  soon  shoot  her  as  not.  Me,  a  man,  a  cool  millionaire,  to  be 
bluffed  by  a  woman, — it's  terrible !  and  yet,  I  am  beaten,  that's 
certain.  Revenge !  revenge  !  'tis  sweet.  'Twould  be  sweet  to 
me,  but  I  scarcely  know  how  to  get  the  start  of  her ;  I  wish  I 
did.  I'll  go  and  tell  Elice  to  forbid  her  the  house ;  I'll  make 
her  do  it.  The  scales  will  then  be  turned.  Ha!  ha!  happy 
thought!  I'll  go  at  once!"  and  he,  Walter  Clayton,  actually 
petted  himself  as  he  saw  a  loop  hole  so  dexterously  drawn. 

He  went  to  her  room.  "Elice,"  said  he,  very  sweetly,  "do 
you  think  it  quite  right  to  make  friends  with  any  person  who  is 
continually  bringing  trouble  to  our  house?" 

"  Certainly  not." 

' '  You  know  that  Mrs.  Ashton  is  one  of  that  stamp ;  has 
(could  you  believe  it  ?)  insulted  me  many  times  under  my  own 
roof;  and  what  I  want  of  you  is  to  vindicate  my  honor  by  for- 
bidding her  the  house." 

"Do  not  ask  it,  Walter;   I  cannot  do  it." 

"  He  took  a  sovereign  from  his  pocket — "Take  this,  Elice." 

"  I  can  not  turn  against  so  kind  a  friend." 

"  I  will  make  it  double." 

"  No,  papa,  not  if  you  gave  me  all  your  wealth." 

"  You  shall !  "  and  he  started  toward  her  with  clenched  fists. 
"  Will  you  ?  " 

"  I  will  not." 

Mrs.  Ashton  opened  the  door — "Stay  thy  murderous  hand, 
or  I'll  cause  your  arrest  before  night !  I  returned  just  in  time. 
Leave  this  room,  fiend  !  Why  do  you  persist  in  your  diabolical 
course?" 

"  She  provoked  me  to  madness — she  always  does  ;' never,  as 
in  this  instance,  grants  me  a  favor,  not  the  most  trivial.  When 
she  can  better  accede  to  my  request  than  otherwise,  she  says 
no.  It  was  all  her  fault ;  she  has  made  my  disposition  just 
what  it  is.  When  I  lived  with  my  first  wife  we  never  had  a 
word."  13 


2O2  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

"  Strange  she  would  not  turn  her  best  friend  out  of  doors  ; 
one  whom,  an  hour  previous,  you  invited  to  come  again,  saying 
she  would  always  be  welcome  !  I  returned  for  a  letter  that  I 
had  forgotten,  and  stood  in  the  hall  and  heard  all  your  conver- 
sation. I  was  not  deceived,  for  I  knew  your  civility  was  insti- 
gated alone  by  your  fear.  The  world  knows  enough  of  your 
career ;  but  how  little  do-  they  understand  your  intriguery, 
treachery,  villainy,  and  the  deep,  dark  plotting  of  your  hell- 
stained  life  !  And  yet,  and  oh !  how  strange !  this  woman  who 
has  suffered  all  the  tortures  of  misplaced  affection,  abusive 
words,  kicks  and  cuffs  at  your  hand,  still  clings  to  you  with 
such  heroic  devotion,  and  seals  her  lips  to  all  the  sufferings  of 
her  poor,  broken  heart,  her  downtrodden  life  ?  and  were  you 
less  than  what  you  are,  as  I  said  before — a  fiend  of  the  blackest 
dye — you  could  appreciate  it,  and,  for  the  sake  of  this  love 
that  has  withstood  the  volcanic  ruptures  of  those  evil  passions 
of  yours,  and  from  the  sincerity  of  her  heart,  so  often  prayed 
'Father  forgive  him,'  and  as  often  sealed  her  own  pardon  of 
these  wrongs  with  a  kiss,  you  would  from  this  moment  lead  a 
different  life.  But  kindness  is  of  no  avail  with  such  a  one  as 
you,  who  heeds  only  the  whiplash  of  the  law,  And  I  assure 
you,  the  sobs  and  entreaties  of  her  whom  you  so  ill-treat  is  all 
the  reason  it  has  not  been  applied  before  ;  so  let  this  be  an 
incentive  to  a  better  life,  or  you  may  reap  the  reward  of  your 
doings  before  you  are  aware ;  for  there  are  hounds  on  your 
track,  and  it  is  only  the  good  spirits  of  your  household  that 
keep  them  at  bay." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  20$ 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

l'O,  mamma!  "  said  little  Blanche,  "it  is  my  birthday,  and 
I  am  nine  years  old  ;  the  violets  are  in  blossom.  May  brother 
and  I  go  to  the  woods  ?  I  want  to  gather  some  of  those  pretty 
flowers  for  a  wreath  and  a  crown,  for  the  concert  is  to-night, 
and  I  am  to  be  queen." 

"  You  to  be  queen !  "  said  her  mother,  while  she  drew  her  up 
fondly  and  gave  her  a  kiss.  "I  hope  my  little  daughter  is  de- 
serving the  honor."  And  a  proud  and  happy  feeling  stole 
through  the  heart  of  Elice,  as  her  eyes  rested  upon  the  count- 
enance of  the  child  radiant  with  hope  and  pleasure. 

"  Yes,  won't  it  be  nice?  You  see,  they  always  choose  the 
best  singers  for  the  place,  and  those  who  can  perform  the  most 
difficult  part  of  the  music,  and  so  they  have  chosen  me;  and 
not  because  I  am  beautiful.  I — I — well,  I  do  wish  I  was.  Now 
Maude  Green  is  so  handsome  that  every  one  stops  in  the  street 
as  she  passes,  to  get  another  look  at  her.  Am  I  very  homely, 
mamma?  Rosie  Sharon  said  I  was  the  worst  looking  person 
she  ever  saw,  and  that  if  I  were  to  be  queen,  it  was  only  because 
my  father  was  rich,  and  not  because  I  was  pretty  or  any  better 
than  she.  But  she  was  mad,  because  she  wants  to  boss  every- 
thing, and  every  one  to  do  just  as  she  says  ;  but  she'll  find  out! 
The  teacher  heard  her  growl,  and  she  came  near  being  turned 
out  of  the  play.  I  wish  she  had  been." 

"  No,  no,  dear,  you  do  not  wish  so.  Don't  you  know  how 
wrong  that  is  ?  We  must  do  unto  others  as  we  would  have 
them  do  to  us ;  we  must  love-  our  enemies." 


204  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

"Love  our  enemies?  Well,  I  don't  love  any  one  that  don't 
love  me;  do  you ?" 

"It  is  hard  sometimes,  but  you  know  our  blessed  Saviour 
prayed  for  them,  and  we  must  try  to  imitate  his  example. 
Now  if  to-night,  when  you  say  your  little  prayer,  you  ask  God 
to  bless  Rosie,  and  then  to-morrow  speak  kindly  to  her,  and 
friendly  of  her  to  your  schoolmates,  I  believe  she  would  treat 
you  differently.  You  retaliate,  don't  you  ?  that  is,  when  she 
says  hateful  things,  reply  in  the  same  spirit, — you  quarrel  with 
her." 

"Of  course!  You  bet  I  don't  take  any  of  her  impudence! 
Why,  she  has  made  me  so  mad  before  now,  I  have  told  her  I'd 
lick  her ;  and  I  will !  why;  mamma,  she  sassed  little  cousin 
Johnnie,  and  snatched  away  his  books,  one  day,  and  kicked  him  ; 
and  I  went  straight  up  to  her,  and — and — " 

"  And  what?     Tell  me,  Blanche. " 

"Why,  I  pushed  her  off  the  big  stone  at  the  back  of  the 
school  house,  and  she  rolled  from  the  top  of  the  hill  to  the  bot- 
tom. I  was  scared  ;  but  it  didn't  hurt  her  much ;  I  didn't  mean 
to  hurt  her,  but  then  she  must  let  us  alone,  that's  all,  or  she'll 
catch  it ! " 

"  Is  that  what  you  learn  at  Sunday  school?  " 

"No,  it  isn't,  I  s'pose." 

"  What  was  the  Golden  Text  for  last  Sabbath?" 

"  'If  a  man  smite  thee  on  one  cheek,  turn  the  other  also!' 
What  does  that  mean  ?" 

"  How  did  your  teacher  explain  it?" 

"  I  don't  just  know,  only  she  said  we  were  never  to  quarrel 
or  fight  with  our  little  brothers  or  sisters,  and  that  we  had  bet- 
ter keep  out  of  the  company  of  all  those  boys  and  girls  that 
were  not  peaceable ;  that,  if  they  were  naughty  and  struck  us, 
God  would  punish  them  for  it.  But  I  told  her  God  was  so  good 
I  was  afraid  He  wouldn't  give  them  half  what  they  deserved  ; 
and  then,  He'd  be  so  long  may  be  in  doing  it,  that  if  ever  they 
should  take  a  notion  to  pound  me,  or  pull  my  hair  like  they  did 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A^STEPMOTHER.  2O$ 

to  others  sometimes,  I  would  prefer  to  lick  'em  myself,  and  then 
they'd  never  meddle  with  me  again.  But  I  would  not  think  of 
touching  any  one  that  was  good  to  me  ;  do  you  believe  I  would, 
mamma?  But  now  may  we  go  to  the  woods?" 

"Yes,  but  not  stay  too  long." 

"  And  how  are  we  to  know  ?  " 

"You  keep  near  the  edge  of  the  woods;  that  is  where  the 
prettiest  of  the  flowers  grow,  and  then,  when  the  time  is  up,  I 
will  ring  the  bell  for  you." 

"  Oh !  sweetest,  best  of  all  mothers,  you  are  so  good !  Come, 
Charlie,  get  your  hat  and  lefs  away." 

Some  of  the  school  children  met  them  at  the  door,  among 
them,  Sammie  Wilmington  with  his  sister,  and  a  few  others  of 
Blanche's  favorites ;  and  they  were  soon  treading  on  pretty 
mosses,  through  the  huckleberry  and  other  bright  green  shrub- 
bery, in  quest  of  flowers  that  were  scattered  in  rich  profusion 
all  through  the  leafy  covert — the  beautiful,  shady  home  of  the 
squirrel  and  chipmunk,  the  blue  bird,  and  linnet.  Never  were 
there  happier  children.  Sammie  gathered  all  the  largest  and 
brightest  of  the  violets  and  gave  them  to  Blanche.  He  hardly 
knew  why  he  did  so,  but  some  way  he  liked  the  smile  she  gave 
him  whenever  he  tossed  to  her  lap  those  little  beauties ;  and  he 
would  rather  she  would  have  them  than  any  one  else,  or  to  keep 
them  himself.  But  when  the  others  remonstrated  with  him  for 
showing  partiality,  he  simply  said,  "But  if  you  were  to  be 
queen  to-night,  then  I  might  pluck  them  for  you ;  but,  as  it  is, 
she  must  not  be  eclipsed." 

They  all  acquiesced,  chatted,  sung  and  made  merry,  while 
their  little  hearts  seemed  brimful  and  running  over  with  happi- 
ness till  the  bell  rang  that  was  to  call  them  home. 

Evening  arrives ;  the  beautiful  park  is  illuminated;  the  seats 
all  taken.  It  is  the  children's  concert;  and  so  the  parents, 
older  brothers  and  sisters  are  much  interested.  The  play  was 
Leopold  and  Leonora — a  prince  and  a  child  queen.  It  was  fab- 
ulous, and  composed  for  the  occasion.  She  was  betrothed  to 


2O6  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

him ;  but  young  as  she  was,  in  anticipation  she  felt  the  yoke  of 
bondage  that  was  to  tighten  about  her  neck.  She  despised  her 
lover,  while  he  adored  her.  By  many  years  her  senior,  he  felt 
a  strange  mingling  of  pride  and  ambition,  as  he  looked  forward 
to  the  time  when  her  little  jeweled  hand  should  be  placed  in 
his  and  she  should  become  his  wife  ;  and,  but  for  her  aversion, 
they  would  have  been  married  at  once.  She  never  thought  to 
avert  the  doom  that  awaited  her,  until  she  saw  a  peasant  lad 
about  her  age  that  won  her  love  all  unconsciously,  as  she  met  him, 
or  rather,  passed  him  in  the  grand  old  park,  where  she  often 
rode  surrounded  by  a  retinue  of  lords  and  ladies,  when  he 
would  always  be  playing  on  a  beautiful  harp,  oftentimes  accom- 
panying the  instrument  with  his  voice,  while  the  rich,  sweet 
tones  of  both  fell  upon  her  ears,  entrancing  her  senses,  as  the 
ethereal  strains  of  some  heavenly  spirit.  Once,  and  once  only, 
their  eyes  met,  and  in  .^that  gaze,  the  whole  story  was  told :  he 
knew  he /was  loved,  and  never  was  the  warbling  of  the  summer 
birds  more  beautiful  than  the  harmonious  tones  that  dropped 
from  his  fingers  and  lips,  and  was  wafted  on  the  balmy  breath 
of  the  morning  air  to  that  little  girl  arrayed  in  the  most  costly 
silks,  glittering  with  jewels,  as  her  fair  head  nestled  lightly 
upon  the  white  satin  folds  that  lined  the  elegant  carriage  in 
which  she  rode,  drawn  by  four  snow-white  horses.  Oh !  bliss 
beyond  all  description,  to  feel  the  sunlight  of  a  sweet  smile,  and 
from  such  a  source !  not  that  he  was  unaware  there  lay  a  gulf  be- 
tween them  as  wide  and  long  as  the  pit  of  the  grave,  which  he 
never  expected  to  pass;  but  that  he  could  have  one  kindly 
thought  from  that  being  whom  he  considered  one  of  the  sweet- 
est of  earthly  mould.  Leopold  saw  it  all,  however,  feared  the 
result  and  determined  to  put  the  boy  out  of  the  way.  He  had 
annoyed  them  before,  he  said  mentally ;  the  best  way  would  be 
to  meet  him  alone;  with  one  hand  he  could  tie  the  scoundrel 
that  dared  to  take  even  a  kind  look  from  his  affianced.  He 
would  hurl  him  to  the  abyss  that  gaped  and  strained  for  victims 
not  a  hundred  yards  away.  And  then  he  bethought  himself 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  2O/ 

that  he  could  not  do  it,  but  would  league  with  some  of  the 
soldiers  to  entice  him  into  their  ranks  and  let  an  accidental  shot 
put  an  end  to  his  existence.  He  was  jealous  of  the  love  of  his 
darling;  not  that  he  thought  she  would  prove  disloyal  to  him, 
but  that  look  did  not  just  suit  him,  and  woe  to  the  man  that 
dared  stand  in  his  way ! 

Having,  however,  overheard  the  plot,  disguised  as  a  peasant, 
Leonora  went  in  search  of  Alfonson  Alzino,  the  youth  of  whom 
we  have  spoken.  She  told  him  of  his  danger  and  advised  him 
to  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  soldiers,  and  then  was  gone. 
Alfonson  could  not  believe  he  had  seen  the  idol  of  all  his  fond- 
est dreams  and  had  almost  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was 
an  apparition — that  an  angel  had  appeared  to  him ;  when  one  of 
the  soldiers,  tapping  him  on  the  shoulder,  asked  him  to  come 
and  play  at  court;  that  Prince  Leopold  had  been  so  entranced 
by  his  songs  that  he  had  gained  him  admittance  to  entertain  the 
queen  with  the  high  lords  and  ladies. 

He  thought  of  the  words  of  the  peasant  girl,  how  she  had 
warned  him;  but  still  he  said  he  would  run  the  chance;  to  be 
where  he  could  daily  see  the  angel  of  his  visions  would  be 
heaven  to  him,  and  he  would  look  out  for  treachery. 

It  was  May:  Leonora  had  bought  several  baskets  of  beautiful 
wild  violets  of  a  little  flower  girl ;  and,  to  gratify  a  strange  whim 
of  hers,  she  had  been  allowed  to  be  arrayed  in  these  for  the 
evening.  Her  diamonds  were  left  off,  and  instead,  a  crown  was 
made  of  these  "little  woodland  nymphs,"  as  she  called  them. 
There  were  the  deep  blue,  the  white,  the  straw  colored ;  and  she 
was  decked  from  head  to  foot  with  nature's  own  jewels ;  and, 
what  no  one  knew  but  herself  and  Alfonson,  was. his  little  gift. 

He  came.  He  knew  why  she  had  done  this  ;  it  was  for  his 
sake.  Oh!  could  it  be,  he  was  so  loved?  He  improvised  a 
song.  It  said  nothing  of  the  queen ;  but  it  was  all  about  a 
spirit  that  had  winged  its  way  from  the  skies  and  bent  its  flight 
to  beds  of  mosses  and  wild  flowers ;  who,  after  decking  itself 
with  them,  went  around  as  a  ministering  angel  breaking  them 


2O8  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

off  and  strewing  them  by  the  side  of  the  sick,  the  down-trod- 
den and  the  weary  of  the  earth ;  and  then,  after  a  time,  was 
received  into  heaven.  And  all  the  time  he  kept  his  eyes  on 
the  beautiful  Leonora — he. could  not  help  it,  for  he  was  spell- 
bound. Leopold  saw  this ;  and,  constraining  his  rage  no 
longer,  rushed  on  him  with  his  sword,  and  thrust  it  through  his 
heart.  He  fell ;  but  when  he  died,  there  was  a  piercing  cry  of 
agony  went  up  from  other  lips:  they  were  the  queen's,  and 
she,  too,  was  dead. 

This  was  the  play.  Blanche  Clayton  personated  Leonora ; 
Sammie  Wilmington  the  musician,  and  Alfred  Gray  the  prince. 
Other  boys  and  girls  were  the  lords  and  ladies.  They  were  ap- 
plauded and  applauded  again  ;  it  seemed  so  real.  The  people 
said  they  never  thought  Blanche  handsome  before ;  but  the 
radiance  of  her  countenance,  the  bewitching  softness  of  her 
large,  black  eyes,  the  silvery  sweetness  of  her  voice,  made  her 
very  attractive.  And  there  was  something  more  than  play 
about  those  tell-tale  blushes  that  occasionally  tinted  the  alabas- 
ter whiteness  of  the  fair  face  of  Sammie  with  the  most  delicate 
pink,  which  only  lent  a  charm  to  his  high  and  handsome  brow 
and  deep  blue  eyes. 

"  Do  you  know  what  Alfred  Gray  says  about  you  ? "  said 
little  Mabel  Wilmington,  addressing  herself  to  Sammie. 

"  I  do  not; — nothing  good,  I  suppose." 

"  He  hates  you,  and  says  if  he  ever  sees  you  making  up 
to  Blanche  Clayton,  he  will  kick  you  into  the  middle  of  next 
week.  These  were  his  words;  he  was  talking  to  some  other 
boys." 

"Was  that  all?" 

"No,  he  would  like  to  thrash  you;  and  he  would,  sometime; 
you  were  nothing  but  a  pauper  ;  would  have  been  in  the  poor 
house  if  it  had  not  been  for  my  father." 

"  That's  nothing,  Mabel.  I  wonder  what  makes  him  so  angry 
at  me." 

"I  don't  know;  only  he  said  Sam  thought  he  was  somebody 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  2OQ 

when  he  was  playing  piano  last  evening  ;  but  if  '  old  Clayton' 
knew  how  he  was  trying  to  shine  up  to  Blanche,  he  wouldn't 
wonder  if  he'd  come  to  a  fate  as  bad  as  Alfonson  who  had  the 
audacity  to  court  the  queen.  I  stood  it  as  long  as  I  could,  and 
then  I  walked  straight  up  to  him  and  told  him  you  were  my 
brother ;  and  that  you  were  able  to  thrash  any  boy  like  him, 
anytime,  and  he  better  keep  his  hands  off  of  you.  Now, 
Sammie,  won't  you  please  to  give  him  a  good  lickin'  when 
you  see  him,  and  let  him  know  he  shall  not  be  talkin'  about 
you  in  this  way?  " 

"  I  shall  let  him  alone,  little  pet,"  he  said  kissing  the  plump, 
rosy  cheek  of  the  child,  "unless  he  makes  me  too  mad,  and 
pitches  into  me  first ;  and  then  I  suppose  I  couldn't  help  taking 
my  own  part." 

"  And  if  you  don't,  you  are  a  fool,  so  there  ;  and  I  won't  own 
you  any  longer  for  my  sweet,  good  brother." 
_•_  "  Halloo!"  cried  a  voice  a  fewj'evenings  afterward,  "is  that 
you,  Sammie  Wilmington?"  and  Alfred  Gray  made  his  way  up 
to  his  side  and  was  soon  in  conversation  with  him,  ' '  Come  down 
to  the  river  and  fish  with  me." 

"  No,  I  cannot ;  my  lessons  are  hard  for  this  week  ;  we  are  on 
a  review  and  I  must  study  evenings." 

"  But  you  shall  !  "  and  he  took  hold  of  his  arm  and  gave  it  a 
pull. 

"You  must  let  me  alone,  Alfred  Gray,"  said  Sammie,  "you 
must  not  think  you  can  brow-beat  me  after  this  style  ;  for  I  will 
not  stand  it." 

' '  You !  who  are  you  ?' ' 

"I  try  to  mind  my  own  business;  and  if  I  was  born  of 
wealthy  parents  like  you,  I  would  have  striven  hard,  if  they 
were  living,  not  to  disgrace  them  by  getting  intoxicated." 

Alfred  Gray  drew  himself  up ;  a  large  diamond  glittered  on 
his  finger,  and  one  on  his  shirt  bosom,  showing  how  lavish  his 
friends  had  been  with  him.  "See  here,  pauper  brat,  you  don't 
want  to  say  I'm  drunk,  or  I'll  make  way  with  you !  " 


2IO  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

"  I  do  not  want  to  fight,  you  will  please  let  me  alone." 

"But  what  do  you  go  to  Clayton's  for?  He  says  he  will  put 
you  out,  if  he  ever  sees  you  inside  his  house  again." 

"Does  he?" 

"And,  furthermore,  he  must  never  hear  of  your  speaking  to 
Blanche  again.  He  was  raging  when  he  found  out  you  were 
lovers  just  in  the  play;  for  he  said  it  seemed  too  much  reality, 
and  you  were  too  low  born.  And  so  you  are — your  father  was 
a  dirty  sot,  and  your  mother — " 

"Hold!"  cried  Sammie,  his  face  white  with  rage;  "I  can 
bear  all  the  insults  you  may  please  to  heap  upon  me,  but  my 
sainted  mother's  name  shall  not  be  desecrated.  Take  that, 
Alfred  Gray!"  and  he  felled  him  to  the  ground  and  held  him 
there,  and  pounded  him  till  he  cried  for  mercy. 

Blanche  and  her  mother  happened  to  be  passing  that  way  at 
the  time,  and  heard  the  whole  conversation  and  knew  just  what 
the  row  was  about. 

Blanche  said,  '  'Alfred  was  to  blame,  and  I  shall  never  speak 
to  him  again  ;  and  I  am  so  glad  that  Sammie  got  the  best  of 
him." 

Her  mamma  replied,  "It  hurts  my  feelings  so  much  to  see 
children  quarreling  and  fighting;  and  I  am  very  sorry  that  two 
members  of  the  academy,  as  well  as  the  Sabbath  school,  should 
become  so  angry  at  each  other." 

"But  Alfred  deserved  the  'whaling'  so  bad;  and  I'm  glad  he 
got  it ! " 

Sammie  was  from  that  moment  a  great  hero,  in  her  estima- 
tion. He  had  dared  to  stand  up  for  his  rights ;  to  battle  for 
his  friends  against  such  odds.  A  man  in  years,  as  she  thought, 
for  he  was  seventeen,  while  Sammie  was  only  twelve;  and  how 
he  did  it,  she  didn't  know ;  but  God  helps  the  weak,  and  so  He 
helped  him. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  211 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Walter  Clayton  was  satisfied  with  housekeeping,  and  although 
the  hardest  matter  in  the  world,  even  when  convinced  of  an 
error,  to  admit  it,  yet  in  his  own  mind  he  thought  a  woman 
after  all  had  considerable  to  do  to  keep  the  house  in  order,  to 
cook  the  meals,  and  was  never  again  known  to  argue  the  matter 
with  any  person. 

"  I  must  have  a  servant  girl,"  he  said,  "who  will  it  be?  Of 
course,  Hettie  is  the  very  best  girl  in  the  world — I  do  not 
know  her  equal,  and  I  wish  she  would  come  back,  but  that 
will  never  do  after  her  going  into  the  church  and  telling  what 
she  has — people  would  wonder  and  wonder,  and  take  me  for 
an  idiot  for  harboring  a  thief  in  my  house.  Hettie  meant  no 
harm,  did  not  even  think  she  was  pilfering,  I  know,  and  if  I 
could  induce  her  to  return,  now  she  has  her  eyes  opened,  it 
would  be  a  nice  thing.  Well,  Hettie  was  a  grand  girl — had  not 
a  fault  as  I  could  see,  not  a  single  one.  To  be  sure  she  was 
considerable  cross  to  the  children  sometimes,  but  they  are  so 
very  trying  she  could  not  help  that.  Blazes,  I  wonder  how 
many  times  I  slapped  them  for  saucing  her.  Well,  they  no 
business  to  do  it — ought  to  be  pounded  if  they  did  not  mind 
every  word  she  said.  Elice  maybe  would  not  want  her  to  work 
for  us  any  more,  but  she  has  nothing  to  say  about  it  ;  I  am 
master  of  my  own  house,  I  guess ;  and  when  it  comes  to  such 
a  pass  that  I  have  to  ask  my  wife  what  servant  we  shall  have, 
I'll  break  up  housekeeping  altogether." 


212  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

Hettie  would  not  go  again  to  Walter  Clayton's,  although  he 
used  all  the  persuasive  arguments  of  which  he  was  master  to 
induce  her,  but  was  not  long  in  finding  another — Susan  Smith — 
and  one  quite  to  his  notion  as  far  as  he  knew — who  proved  on 
a  few  days  trial  to  be  bold,  impudent,  intriguing,  thievish  crea- 
ture, without  one  particle  of  honor  in  any  respect.  All  of 
which  did  not  worry  Walter  Clayton  very  much,  as  she  managed 
to  be  very  pleasant  when  he  was  around,  and  in  a  good  natured 
way  to  get  his  help  in  taking  and  holding  the  reins  of  govern- 
ment; after  a  time  to  carry  a  despotic  queenly  sway  over  the 
house. 

The  children  were  misused,  but  after  informing  their  father, 
ceased  altogether  to  tell  him,  as  it  did  no  good — only  incurring 
his  wrath  and  displeasure,  and  as  for  Elice,  she  must  have  no 
voice  in  the  matter.  If  she  made  an  attempt  to  expostulate 
Walter  would  say  "  you  are  everlastingly  finding  fault ;  you  ought 
to  do  the  work  yourself  and  shall,  if  you  kick  up  a  row.  Susan 
is  a  splendid  girl.  We  never  have  a  servant  to  please  you." 

"Do  you  want  your  children  to  be  cuffed  around  by  that 
girl  ?  "  Elice  would  sometimes  enquire. 

"They  don't  dare  to  tell  me  Susan  strikes  them." 

"Nevertheless  she  gave  Charlie  that  black  eye." 

"I  don't  believe  it.  Why  didn't  he  say  so  when  I  asked 
him  ?  " 

"Did  you  not  tell  him  not  to  come  to  you  with  tales  about 
Susan?  That  you  would  punish  him  if  he  did?" 

"  Well,  yes !  for  I  found  out  they  were  getting  to  be  as  bad 
as  yourself — never  telling  the  truth.  Now  I  know  Susan  too 
well  to  think  she  would  do  anything  very  wrong — so  let  this 
end  the  matter." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

Susan  has  now  been  in  her  place  for  more  than  a  year.  ^She 
has  succeeded  without  detection,  in  obtaining  keys  that  will  un- 
lock every  drawer,  bureau,  trunk,  etc.,  in  the  house ;  and  in  the 
absence  of  the  inmates,  satisfies  her  curiosity  in  examining  their 
contents,  reading  private  papers  and  letters,  but  being  very 
careful  to  replace  them  properly,  that  she  may  not  be  discov- 
ered. As  yet  she  has  purloined  nothing  lest  she  should  lose 
the  opportunity  of  securing  something  of  far  greater  value  that 
might  be  deposited  ;  only  taking  that  which  chanced  to  be  care- 
lessly left  around,  where  it  would  as  soon  be  laid  to  the  children 
as  to  herself. 

Blanche  having  one  morning  occasion  to  return  from  school 
for  a  book,  found  her  looking  over  her  box  of  letters.  She  had 
taken  out  twelve  bearing  the  signature  of  Sammie  Wilmington 
and  expected  to  peruse  them  here  in  her  little  bedroom  unmo- 
lested. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Blanche  in  great  wrath;  "I'll 
inform  my  mamma  of  all  your  dirty  tricks,  and  have  you  dis- 
charged." 

"  And  I'll  tell  your  father  you've  been  gettin'  love-letters 
from  the  feller  that  he  forbid  you  'sociatin'  with.  Now,  my  little 
miss,  you  better  not  be  too  upstropulus,  that's  the  long  and 
short  of  it,  or  he'll  hear  a  thing  or  two." 

"  You  are  a  thief,  a  liar  and  a  mischief-maker  ;  and  I  hate  you 
worse  than  I  do  any  one  else  in  the  world !  " 


214  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

"  I'm  hired,  for  telling,  you  know  ;  I  get  fifty  cents  on  a  week 
mor'n  I  would  if  it  wa'n't  for  that ;  and  it's  likely  I'd  see  any- 
thing go  wrong  in  this  house  without  tellin'  the  master  ;  besides 
I  think  he  orto  know.  Now,  if  you'll  give  me  that  pretty  gold 
locket  and  chain  of  yourn  and  say  you  lost  it,  I'll  keep  still. 
You  know  you'd  git  a  terrible  thrashin'  if  you  be  a  girl.  I'd 
hate  to  see  you  licked,  now  that's  so.  Do,  that's  a  good  girl, 
and  I'll  never  tell  if  you  git  a  thousand  like  'em  ;  and  I'll  help 
you  too — carry  mail  for  you  ;  mebbe  you'll  need  me  some- 
times." 

Blanche  wrung  her  hands  and  cried ;  she  knew  she  had  been 
told  never  to  speak  to  Sammie,  and  she  feared  it  would  go  hard 
with  her  if  he  found  out  she  had  been  holding  correspondence 
with  him  ;  but  to  part  with  that  precious  gift  from  her  dear, 
dead  mamma,  was  a  hard  blow  for  her ;  she  did  not  feel  as  if 
she  could  do  it.  At  last  she  said,  "That  coral  necklace  and 
those  pretty  charms — won't  they  do  ?  " 

"No,  they  will  not — the  gold  one  or  none,"  and  Susan  held 
the  box  firmly,  saying,  "I  will  take  them  all  to  your  father  as 
soon  as  he  comes  here  unless  you  give  it  to  me." 

"jWell,  there  it  is,  then;  now,  how  much  will  you  ask  me, 
and  I  will  buy  it  back,  just  as  soon  as  I  can  save  money 
enough." 

' '  All  right.  Now  you  can  depend  upon  it,  anybody  can  do 
anything  they  want  to,  if  they'll  pay  me  for  it." 

Susan  managed  to  keep  one  of  the  letters,  however,  when, 
after  tearing  off  the  signature,  she  dropped  it  where  Mr.  Clay- 
ton would  find  it. 

It  was  just  dinner  hour:  all  the  family  were  seated  around 
the  table,  when,  stopping  suddenly,  he  remarked  that  he  had 
found  a  very  funny  letter ;  he  thought  it  beat  all  the  love  letters 
he  ever  saw ;  but  as  there  did  not  happen  to  be  any  names 
mentioned,  it  would  be  hard  to  tell  to  whom  Jit  belonged ;  it 
was  evidently  from  some  young  lad.  He  read  aloud,  while  the 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  21$ 

face  of  Blanche  first  turned  to  deep  crimson,  and  then  to  ashy 
whiteness. 

"  '  MY  DARLING:  You  know  I  love  you  a  great  deal  better 
than  any  girl  I  ever  saw.  There  never  was  a  person  lived  that 
could  begin  to  come  up  with  you  ;  well,  yes,  there  was  one 
once — you  know  whom  I  mean — but  she  has  gone  to  Heaven, 
and  there  is  nobody  left  for  me  to  love  but  you.  Sometime,  I 
presume,  we  will  get  married.  You  know  what  you  told  me : 
that  you  would  never  have  any  one  but  me.  If  I  thought  you 
would,  it  would  kill  me ;  but  I  know  you  will  not,  will  you  ? 
You  remember  when  we  gathered  the  flowers — how  beautiful 
they  were ;  but  you  were  the  sweetest  of  them  all ;  and  I  wanted 
to  tell  you  then  how  much — how  very  much  I  loved  you,  but 
could  not — '  "  The  rest  was  torn  off. 

"  I'd  like  to  know  what  silly  little  upstart  wrote  that,"  said 
Mr.  Clayton.  "  If  I  knew  of  any  boy  sending  such  trash  to 
you,  Miss  Blanche,  I'd  thrash  you  both.  Never  let  me  catch  you 
at  such  nonsense,  You'll  find  it  will  not  be  well  for  you." 

Blanche  said  nothing.  She  would  not  tell  a  lie ;  she  would 
not  deceive  him.  By  this  time  she  had  regained  her  compos- 
ure, so  he  did  not  seem  to  mistrust  her. 

Susan  was  in  an  adjoining  room,  chuckling  over  her  little 
trick,  as  she  called  it,  which  she  played  on  Blanche,  "just  to 
see,"  she  said,  "how  skart  she  would  be." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it  ?  "  she  said  as  soon  as  she  found 
Blanche  alone.  ' '  Do  you  see  what  you'd  got,  if  I'd  told  on  you  ? 
Now,  see  here,  your  father  showed  me  that  very  letter  and 
asked  me  if  I  thought  Blanche  was  correspondin'  with  the  boys, 
and  I  told  him,  '  No,  not  a  bit  of  it ;  I  saw  Belle  Stratton  drop 
it  out  of  her  pocket  when  she  came  for  you  to  go  to  school  with 
her.'  Now,  if  you  hadn't  give  me  nothin'  you  don't  expect 
I'd  keep  your  secrets  for  you,  and  tell  a  wicked  lie  to  git  you 
out  of  your  scrapes — no,  sir,  not  I ;  but  I'm  a  friend  to  you, 
and,  as  long  as  you  don't  tread  on  my  toes,  all  right.  You 
understand?" 


2l6  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

"  Yes,  I  do  ?  but  I  don't  see  how  I'm  ever  to  get  so  much 
money  to  pay  you.  I  don't  have  five  cents  a  week,  hardly, 
and  you  ask  me  five  dollars  for  the  chain,  and  you  know  it's 
mine,  Susan.  It  was  my  dear,  dead  mother's.  Do,  for  her 
sake,  let  me  have  it  again,  and  I'll  give  you  every  penny  I  can 
get  for  all  winter." 

Susan  flew  into  a  rage.  "You  can  have  it,"  she  said,  "  but 
of  course  the  letters  are  locked  up  in  my  trunk  ;  I  could  show 
them  any  time." 

"Well,  then  keep  it;  I  will  do  the  best  I  can;  but  for  the 
love  of  mercy,  don't  let  my  father  see  them." 

"  No,  not  if  you  do  as  you  promised." 

Blanche  went  to  her  room  and  threw  herself  upon  her  bed  in 
an  agony  of  despair.  "  Oh  !  "  she  cried,  "what  am  I  to  do  ? 
Where  will  I  get  the  money  ?  And  supposing  father  should 
ask  to  see  the  miniature,  as  he  sometimes  does,  and  I  could 
not  produce  it ;  he  would  then  wish  to  know  where  it  was,  and 
I  could  not  tell  a  lie  !  " 

Susan  had  followed  her,  unperceived ;  and,  as  soon  as  the 
door  was  locked,  she  slipped  to  the  keyhole  and  listened.  She 
heard  her  sobs,  and  knew  just  what  they  were  about,  and  was 
determined  to  involve  her  in  still  greater  difficulty.  She  rapped 
gently  at  the  door.  It  was  opened  and  she  was  bidden  to  enter. 

"I've  got  a  plan  for  you;  I  don't  want  to  be  too  hard  on 
nobody,  and  it'll  help  you  all  out." 

"What  is  it?"  answered  Blanche,  brightening. 

"You  know  you  sleep  in  the  next  room  to  your  papa's. 
Now,  climb  up  when  he  is  asleep,  take  the  key  out  of  his  pocket, 
bring  it  to  me,  and  I'll  help  you  to  unlock  his  safe  where  you 
could  git  as  much  as  a  hundred  dollars,  if  you  wanted  to." 

"Supposing  he  should  find  it  out?"  Blanche  answered,  wish- 
ing to  lead  her  on. 

"  He  never  would  mistrust  us.  He  couldn't  be  made  believe 
I  would  do  such  a  thing;  he's  an  old  miser,  anyway,  and  don't 
treat  none  of  you  none  the  best.  He  jaws  you  for  what  you 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  2 1/ 

don't  never  do,  and  acts  like  an  old  heathen  around  here.  He 
thinks  I'm  'bout  right,  though.  You  see,  I've  a  great  knack  of 
throwin'  sand  in  folks'  eyes  if  I've  a  mind  to.  What  do  you 
say?" 

"I'll  never  do  i|.  He  might  whip  me  to  death  first  for  the 
letters;  but  steal,  I  will  not!  " 

"But  that  wouldn't  be  stealin',  you  big  ninny,  for  no  law 
could  touch  you,  even  if  it  was  found  out,  which  would  never 
be." 

"Susan,  I'd  die  before  I'd  be  guilty  of  the  crime!  so  talk  to 
me  no  more  about  it." 

"Well,  fool,  then  you  won't  tell  on  me,  will  you?  If  you 
should,  you  know  how  easy  it  will  be  for  me  to  deny  it ;  and  I 
stand  ten  to  one  in  your  father's  estimation  for  honesty,  truth 
and  everything  else  angelic  to  what  any  the  rest  on  you  do ; 
and,  furthermore,  you  see  if  I  wouldn't  make  a  big  breeze 
between  your  father  and  you — I'm  capable  !  " 

"I  know  that;  you  are  a  devil.  Where  do  you  expect  to 
go  when  you  die  ?  " 

"  I  ha'n't thought  nothin'  about  that  yet;  there's  time  enough 
for  that ;  but  be  careful  what  kind  of  names  you  call  me,  miss, 
for  you  remember  you  are  still  in  my  power." 

"Yes,  but  I'll  be  even  with  you  some  day — now  see! " 

"  Look  out  how  you  cross  my  path  ;  I'm  your  friend  now. 
You  have  an  easy  life — nothing  to  do  but  go  to  school ;  all  you 
want  to  eat,  I  s'pose  ;  clothes  comfortable  enough ;  nothing  to 
what  I'd  have  if  I  was  a  millionaire's  only  dotter,  though,  I've 
heard  folks  remark  that  you  nor  none  on  the  rest  on  you  was 
dressed  decent ;  but  that's  not  here  nor  there :  you  have  quite 
a  little  heaven  here  to  what  you  would  if  I  got  after  you." 

"You  are  after  me   now,  I   should  think,"  replied  Blanche 
forcing  a  smile ;   she  knew  her  words  were  true.      "Better  have 
her  good  will,  if  possible,"  she  thought.     "You  are  pretty  good 
sometimes:  I  will  keep  quiet." 
14 


2l8  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

"So  you  better,"  and  Susan  left  the  room. 

"That  money  must  be  raised:  I've  a  plan,"  Blanche  said, 
mentally,  after  she  again  bolted  the  door  and  found  herself  alone. 
"  The  scholar  in  our  class  who  writes  the  best  essay  receives  a 
present  of  two  dollars  ;  and  the  one  that  stands  first  in  his 
studies  one  of  five  dollars.  Now  I  mean  to  have  them  both.  I 
can  if  I  study  hard,  I  know  ;  but  oh !  I  shall  have  to  work  to 
get  ahead  of  those  three  boys,  for  they  have  now  a  good  deal 
better  knowledge  of  their  books  than  myself.  But  I'll  sit  up 
nights,  but  what  I  will  accomplish  it !  I  know  now  ;  I  will  get 
mamma  to  write  the  composition,  and  then  I  will  surely  suc- 
ceed— no,  no,  that  will  never  do — that  would  be  deception  and 
next  to  stealing  to  palm  this  off  as  my  own,  and  so  cheat  the 
deserving  pupils  out  of  the  prize ;  I  cannot  nor  will  not  do  so 
treacherous  an  act,  and,  besides,  I  know  her  too  well ;  she  could 
not  be  coaxed  to  write  it ;  but  she  will  assist  me,  I  am  sure ; 
she  will  give  me  a  nice  subject  and  ideas — that  would  be  right, 
I  guess,  I'll  ask  her.  Dear,  sweet  mamma!  she  never  failed 
me  in  my  troubles,  but  always  helped  me  out  if  she  could.  I 
tell  her  everything,  for  she  never  scolds  me  even  though  I  am 
deserving  ;  but  papa  storms  and  raves  ;  I  dare  not  make  a  con- 
fidant of  him.  Oh !  how  I  wish  I  could  go  to  him  as  I  do  to 
her,  throw  my  arms  around  his  neck  and  ask  his  forgiveness 
when  I  do  anything  wrong.  But  I  can't ;  he  frightens  me  so. 
Now  he  ought  not  to  be  angry  about  those  letters ;  I  am  sure 
there  can  be  no  harm  for  me  to  love  Sammie  and  for  him  to 
love  me,  for  I  cannot  help  that.  How  could  I  when  he  has 
carried  me  to  school  every  winter  for  years,  on  his  large  sled, 
trudging  through  great  heaps  of  snow,  tucking  my  shawl  snugly 
around  me,  and  carrying  my  dinner  basket;  and  then,  when  the 
spring  came,  and  the  great  blinding  showers  of  rain,  and  the 
sun  shone  out  warm  melting  the  snow,  and  making  the  roads 
so  very  bad,  and  the  nice  stone  walks  in  the  academy  grounds, 
got  bits  of  board  and  sticks  of  wood  and  laid  over  the  bad 
places  so  that  I  need  not  soil  my  feet  nor  fall  into  the  mud  ? 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  219 

Of  course  I  love  Sammie,  and  where  is  the  harm?  I  love  my 
brothers,  and  my  father  when  he  is  kind  to  me  ;  but  when  he  is 
cross,  and  unreasonable,  and  tyrannical,  and  snappish,  and  oh ! 
just  as  hateful  and  ugly  as  can  be,  why — I  hate  him — I  guess — 
yes,  I  can't  call  it  anything  else,  for  I  wish  he  was  dead,  and 
myself  too  !  " 


22O  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

Examination  day  came  and  passed  ;  both  prizes  were  awarded 
to  Blanche  ;  but  oh !  how  many  headaches,  sleepless  nights  and 
days  of  toil  they  had  cost  her.  She  had  oftentimes  studied  by 
the  light  of  a  little  lamp  in  her  room  till  the  wee  hours  of 
morning.  The  excitement  had  kept  her  up,  but  now  it  was 
over  ;  her  overstrained  nerves  began  to  react,  and  her  pale  face 
showed  how  far  she  had  gone  beyond  her  strength. 

The  money  she  gave  to  Susan,  and  in  return  received  the  chain ; 
but  when  she  came  to  look  over  her  letters,  she  found  several  of 
them  missing  ;  thus  there  was  a  whip  held  over  her  to  still  lacer- 
ate the  tender  flesh,  and  cut  deep  into  her  heart.  She  felt  it 
keenly,  and  remonstrated  with  this  fiend,  who  only  replied  that 
she  had  given  her  all  that  she  ever  had.  It  was,  of  course, 
useless  to  argue  the  case  with  her,  and  so  Blanche  gave  it  up  ; 
but  all  the  time  felt  that  there  was  a  volcano  beneath  her  feet 
that  might  burst  at  any  time  and  immerse  her  with  its  boiling  lava. 
"  I  am  only  twelve  but  I  have  seen  trouble,"  she  said.  "  I  believe 
I  will  go  to  my  mother  and  tell  her  all  about  these  letters  now," 
she  said,  holding  them  in  her  hand;  "and  if  she  thinks  best,  I 
will  take  them  to  papa,  and  tell  him  I  meant  no  wrong ;  but,  if 
I  have  committed  sin  by  disobedience,  I  crave  his  forgiveness ; 
but,  then,  I  should  have  to  tell  him  that  I  did  still  keep  my  ac- 
quaintance with  Sammie ;  that  I  held  conversation  with  him 
every  chance  I  got, — and  I  cannot  do  it;  for  he  would  surely 
make  me  promise  never  to  speak  to  him  again  ;  and  that  would 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  221 

break  my  heart,  I  believe.  O,  spirit  of  my  mother,  come  down 
from  Heaven  and  help  me !  Why  did  I  not  die  before  these 
dark  days  came  ?  People  imagine  children  should  be  as  happy 
as  the  little  birds  that  sing  the  whole  day  long.  But  they  never 
allow  a  snake  to  coil  around  their  nests,  and  nestle  in  them, 
ready  to  bite  their  wee  ones  whenever  they  get  a  chance ;  but 
here  we  have  an  adder  in  our  house,  and  oh !  how  many  times 
we  have  all  felt  its  sting.  But  papa  thinks  she  is  good — of 
course  he  does,  or  he  would  not  keep  her ;  but  I  know  all  about 
her.  If  I  should  tell  him  what  I  have  seen,  he  would  not  be- 
lieve it ;  she  has  such  a  pretty  way  of  getting  out  of  everything, 
and  throwing  the  blame  all  on  some  one  else,  and  so,  she  would 
manage  with  me.  O  blessed  Jesus!  I'll  go  to  Him  and  rely 
upon  Him — that's  what  mamma  has  told  me  so  much  ;  but  it 
seems  as  though  I  did  not  know  just  how.  But  there  is  one 
thing  I  can  do :  I  will  ask  Him  to  send  this  dreadful  woman  out 
of  the  house;  for,  if  He  does  not,  I  shall  die." 

At  that  moment  Susan  entered  her  room — all  smiles.  She 
said  she  had  found  those  letters,  and  had  come  to  give  them  all 
up.  "Oh,  you  are  so  good  !  "  Blanche  answered,  "  and  then 
I  shall  not  worry  so." 

' '  You  are  a  fool  to  let  them  trouble  you,  any  how :  that's 
nothin'  to  have  some  one  tell  you  that  he  loves  you,  and  they 
can't  help  it ;  and  you  musn't  speak  to  no  other  boys  but  him. 
You  orto  see  some  I've  got.  Now  what  do  you  s'pose  I  care 
who  knows  it;  but  then  I  thought  I'd  come  and  jest  tell  you 
if  these  letters  would  be  of  any  account  to  you,  I'd  give  every 
one  on  them  up  if  you'd  just  give  me  that  pretty  bird  of 
paradise  you  have  worn  now  on  your  hat  for  all  last  winter ; 
you  have  kept  it  as  good  as  new,  and  ye  see  I'm  going  to 
uncle's  next  week,  and  I  want  to  take  some  presents  to  them, 
so  to  make  them  good-natured ;  so  I'd  like  to  take  that  bird  to 
my  cousin,  for  one  thing." 

' '  Why !  my  grandmother  gave  me  that,  and  what  would 
she  say?" 


223  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

"Fiddlesticks!  let  her  say.  She  won't  know  it.  Tell  her 
you  wore  your  hat  to  school  one  day,  and  a  big  boy  came  into 
the  entry  and  stole  it — that's  reasonable  enough,  ain't  it?" 

"  But  you  can't  get  me  to  tell  that  lie ;  besides  I've  paid  you 
for  them  all,  once." 

"  Your  father  was  talking  about  that  letter  again  he  found, 
and  wanted  to  know  of  me  if  I  thought  Blanche  had  anything 
to  say  to  Sammie  any  more.  I  told  him  no,  I  knowd  she 
didn't,  and  stuck  up  for  you  good.  Now,  spos'n'  I'd.  jest 
hauled  out  these  pretty  love  'pistles,  as  your  father  calls  them, 
and  showed  him!  You  might  as  well  be  struck  by  thunder,  I 
guess;  you  might  as  well  say  your  prayers  and  prepare  to 
leave! " 

"  He  wouldn't  kill  me  ?  " 

"No,  not  as  bad  as  that,  I  s'pose  ;  but  I'd  'bout  as  liv  be 
murdered  outright,  as  to  have  him  know  about  it,  if  I  was  you ; 
for  you'd  think  a  whole  swarm  of  bees  was  let  loose  'round  your 
ears,  I  guess,  for  the  next  six  months ;  there  would  be  such  a 
terrible  uproar.  He's  awful,  ain't  he,  Blanche?" 

"  He  is  worse  if  he  has  some  one  like  you  to  set  him  up,  and 
you  are  all  the  time  hatching  up  a  fuss." 

"That's  my  business,  to  be  sure.  You  see,  he  pays  me  for 
telling,  and  the  rest  pay  me  for  keeping  still ;  so,  betwixt  you 
all,  I  manage  to  be  kept  in  pin  money." 

"  If  I  was  mamma,  I'd  put  you  out,  for  you  are  all  the  while 
getting  her  into  trouble.  You  think  I  don't  know  it,  I  suppose." 

"  She  knows  better.     I'm  the  best  friend  she  has  got." 

' '  But  who  told  papa  the  falsehood  about  her  getting  mad 
and  burning  up  all  my  first  mamma's  dresses?" 

"  I  didn't." 

"  I  heard  you  !  And  furthermore  you  stole  those  very  arti- 
cles. I  might  inform  them  !  " 

"  I  never  done  it,  nor  you  nor  no  saint  could  make  them 
think  so." 

"But  I  saw  you  take  them." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  22$ 

"  But  you  dassant  tell.  Who  did  I  see  talking  together  after 
school  in  the  academy  yard,  and  what  did  you  say?  You  told 
Sammie  you'd  love  him  forever  ;  now  didn't  you  ?  You 
couldn't  deny  it,  for  you  ain't  jest  like  me — you  wouldn't  tell  a 
lie.  Now  give  me  the  bird,  and  I'll  say  quits  ;  you  might  as 
well,  for  if  we  have  a  fight  and  play  the  fool,  why,  my  head  is 
a  little  the  longest,  for  it's  the  oldest,  and  'twould  be  you,  miss, 
that  would  come  out  the  little  end  of  the  horn,  and  not  me,  you 
are  wise  enough  to  see,  yourself." 

"Well,  here  is  the  bird." 

"  All  hunkey !  Here's  them  letters,  and  no  mistake.  Ain't 
I  good  ?  Good  night,  Blanche,  I  shall  not  see  you  again  very 
soon,  as  I  start  to-night  on  the  midnight  train  for  uncle's." 


224  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

It  is  autumn — glorious  season !  The  bright  green  leaves  are 
tinged  with  gold  and  crimson ;  the  frosts  have  commenced  to 
drape  the  flowers  in  its  modest  but  beautiful  robe  of  white, 
while  the  husbandman  is  still  gathering  in  his  hoarded  wealth 
of  ripened  grain  and  fruit. 

Elice  is  once  more  seated  in  the  little  arbor,  wrapt  in  contem- 
plation, and  wondering,  with  all  this  loveliness  spread  out  in 
nature — these  precious  gifts — that  man  should  be  so  unthank- 
ful, and  unhappy ;  while  her  heart  goes  out  to  the  Great  Giver, 
in  sweet  praises  for  life  and  health. 

She  took  a  letter  from  her  pocket,  that  she  had  received 
a  week  previous,  to  again  peruse.  It  was  from  her  mother, 
and  not  the  first  time  that  she  had  stolen  away  by  herself  to 
enjoy  those  blessed  words  that  were  such  a  comfort  to  her  in 
trials  and  afflictions,  for  each  time  it  seemed  as  if  she  had 
actually  seen  and  held  sweet  converse  with  her,  in  not  only 
that  which  pertained  to  her  temporal,  but  spiritual  welfare. 

"My  Darling  Child: — You  cannot  imagine  how  happy  I  am 
to  be  able,  after  a  tedious  illness,  to  address  you.  I  have  been 
very  near  the  door  of  death,  I  suppose,  but  thanks  to  Him  who 
rules  in  the  armies  above  as  well  as  on  earth,  that  to-day,  for 
the  first,  I  went  into  my  flower  garden  and  sat  for  an  hour  under 
the  grape  vines'  shade.  A  thousand  remembrances  stole  over 
me  of  the  past.  And  to  whom,  dearest,  did  my  thoughts  wan- 
der out  in  quest  ?  A  little  one  robed  in  blue  or  white,  running 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  225 

to  and  fro  among  the  flowers,  as  happy  as  the  birds  the  live- 
long day — grown  now  to  womanhood,  and  away,  oh !  so  far 
away  that  my  heart  aches  to  think  of  the  distance ;  hoping,  but 
fearing  that  her  life  is  not  what  it  was,  or  what  it  seemed — a 
dream  of  bliss,  to  whom'the  troubles  of  childhood  never  came. 
I  am  afraid  you  are  not  so  happy  now ;  but  we  must  not  expect 
too  much  in  this  world,  for  here  we  shall  have  tribulation,  but 
in  the  bright  beyond — peace.  Live  for  Christ,  darling ;  lay  up 
treasures  in  Heaven ;  set  not  your  affections  on  things  below, 
for  a  crown  surely  awaiteth,  if  you  are  faithful  to  God.  I  am 
so  longing  to  see  your  dear  face.  Come  home ;  do  not  delay 
long ;  the  apple  trees  are  loaded  with  fruit ;  the  grape  vines 
pend  with  their  weight ;  the  fragrance  of  the  wild  roses  lends  a 
charm,  and  the  odor  of  the  new  mown  hay  is  sweet  and  invig- 
orating. 

"Your  father  sends  his  love  with  a  thousand  kisses,  and 
says,  '  Tell  Elice  to  be  sure  and  come  and  stay  through  all  the 
lovely  autumn ;'  now  don't  disappoint  him,  for  he  looks  for- 
ward to  your  visit  as  the  happiest  days  of  all  the  year.  His 
health  is  failing ;  but  his  hope  in  Christ  grows  brighter  and  still 
brighter  as  he  nears  the  beautiful  land — the  Holy  City  of  sal- 
vation. 

"That  we  may  be  ready  to  meet  the  king  of  terrors — death, 
is  the  prayer  of  your  mother  and  friend, 

"  MARY  WOODVILLE.  " 

Elice  had  scarcely  finished  this  loving  epistle  before  a  tele- 
gram was  handed  her.  It  was  from  her  father : — 

"We  fear  your  mother  is  dying — hasten  !  " 

"My  mother!  my  dear,  dear  mother !  Oh!  it  cannot  be!" 
she  murmured,  and  fell  fainting  to  the  ground. 

When  she  recovered,  she  picked  up  the  telegram.  "It  must 
be  a  dream  !  "  she  thought.  "  No,  no,  there  it  is,  in  black  and 
white;  'your  mother  is  dying! '  It  must  be  true;  it  must  be 
true.  Sweetest,  best  of  all  parents,  shall  I  never  see  thee  again 
alive  ?  Oh !  for  one  word  from  those  blessed  lips,  to  tell  me 


226  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

how  I  am  loved ;  and  my  spirit  would  take  its  flight  with  thine. 
Sorrow  has  alone  "been  my  lot  since  we  separated ;  and  now, 
with  my  head  upon  thy  breast,  within  thy  grave  I  would  lay 
me  down  and  rest,  sweet,  sweet  mother! "  She  lifted  her  eyes 
heavenward  with  this  prayer  : 

"Father,  forgive  my  lack  of  submission  and  give  me  strength 
to  sustain  me  through  all  my  sorrows  that  have  come  so  sud- 
denly upon  me." 

She  then  arose  and  started  for  the  house ;  several  times,  how- 
ever, she  leaned  against  the  fence  for  support,  and,  although 
she  tried  so  hard  to  have  no  will  in  the  matter,  to  give  it  all  in- 
to the  hands  of  the  Eternal;  yet,  as  her  thoughts  wandered 
to  the  sick  couch  of  the  dearest  earthly  friend  that  she  ever  had, 
or  ever  expected  to  possess,  she  could  not  help  wishing  and 
hoping  that  she  might  recover  from  disease  and  be  able  to  visit 
with  her,  on  her  arrival ;  that  it  was  a  mistake  ;  that  excitement 
had  led  her  father  to  his  sad  conclusion  respecting  her.  She 
met  her  husband  at  the  door,  who,  seeing  the  pallor  of  her  face 
said,  "What  is  the  matter?" 

She  handed  him  the  telegram  and  then  broke  forth  into  pite- 
ous moans  and  sobs  that  would  have  melted  a  heart  of  stone. 

"And  you  intend  to  go?"  he  said;  "you  cannot  do  any 
good." 

"Oh  !  papa,  I  must  start  on  the  first  train  !  " 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  little  Blanche,  "if  it  were  you,  papa, 
wouldn't  you  want  Charlie  and  little  Robin  and  I  with  you  if 
you  died?" 

"  Well,  I  s'pose  you'd  have  to  go,  if  it  took  the  last  cent  I 
had — here  it  is  then." 

"  And  alone!  Must  I  go  alone  ?  Will  you  not  accompany 
me  ?  Oh  !  such  a  terrible  pain  here !  "  and  she  pressed  her 
hands  tightly  over  her  burning  brow. 

"No,  I  will  not;  it's  enough  for  you  to  spend  money  un- 
necessarily, without  wanting  me  to  ;  and  as  for  your  folks,  I 
never  did  like  them,  your  mother  especially." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  22/ 

"  Oh,  my  mother !  sweet  mother,  so  dear  to  me !  a  thousand 
times  could  I  die  in  her  stead  !" 

"  Papa,  I  love  her,"  said  little  Blanche.  "Don't  you  know 
how  she  used,  when  she  was  here,  to  sit  up  till  midnight,  and 
mend  our  clothes,  and  make  dresses  for  me  ?  I  wish  she  would 
get  well.  Tell  her,  mamma,  I  want  to  see  her  and  I  hope  she 
won't  die,  and  take  her  such  lots  of  kisses— poor  grandmama!" 
and  herewith  the  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks  like  rain. 

Elice  prepared  hastily  for  her  journey,  and  was  ready  at  the 
depot  to  take  the  express  train  bound  for  New  York  when  it 
came.  All  the  passengers  noticed  the  quivering  lips,  and  ashy 
paleness,  like  death,  of  her  countenance,  and  said  among  them- 
selves that  she  was  too  sick  to  be  travelling  alone ;  while  her 
head  reeled,  and  she  thought,  at  times,  she  never  would  reach 
the  end  of  her  journey.  But  strength  came,  from  the  sweet 
fountain  where  it  always  had ;  for,  after  taking  some  wine  that 
a  lady  offered  her,  then  laying  her  weary  head  for  a  time  upon 
a  pillow  that  the  kind  hearted  conductor  procured  for  her,  she 
felt  much  better ;  and  when  she  reached  the  home  of  her  par- 
ents, was  better  prepared  to  meet  the  trouble  that  awaited  her 
than  when  at  the  door  she  parted  with  her  cruel  and  tyrannical 
husband,  whose  very  presence  sent  a  thrill  of  dread  and  fear  to 
her  heart,  and  in  that  ratio  weakened  her  nerves  and  induced 
sickness. 

"My  mother!"  were  her  first  words,  as  she  entered  the 
house. 

"  In  there,"  said  her  father  pointing  to  a  large  room  on  the 
east  side  of  the  building.  "She  is  delirious  ;  is  now  calling  your 
name." 

"And  not  dead  ?  "     Oh,  thank  God,  not  dead  !  " 

"  No,  darling,  your  mother  still  lives  to  give  you  her  dying 
blessing,"  he  said,  folding  her  to  his  breast.  "  Go  in,  now,  she 
may  know  you." 

She  hastened  to  her  beside;  reason,  for  a  few  moments 
asserted  its  right.  "My  child!  my  child  !  I  am  so  glad  you 


228  THOSE  ORPHANS,  OR 

are  here !  The  sands  of  my  life  have  been  lashed  by  the  waves 
of  death ;  each  one  comes  nearer  to  me.  I  must  leave  you ; 
b.ut  Jesus,  my  friend,  is  with  me,  and  in  his  precious  arms  he 
will  bear  me  over  the  tide,  where  myriads  of  angels  are  waiting 
on  the  other  shore  to  welcome  me.  Don't  you  see  them? 
Hark!  I  hear  their  hallelujahs.  Sweet,  sweet,  Christ!  my  all 
and  in  all !  Who  would  not  be  a  Christian  ?  who  would  not  love 
the  Lord?  'Though  I  walk  through  the  valley  and  shadow  of 
•death,  I  will  fear  no  evil,  for  Thou  art  with  me,  Thy  rod  and 
Thy  staff  they  comfort  me.'  'He  breaketh  the  bands  of 
death  in  sunder.'  Praise  His  holy  name!"  A  smile  then 
overspread  her  countenance.  "Farewell!"  she  whispered,  "I 
am  entering  the  beautiful  city;  "  and  breathed  her  last  in  the 
arms  of  her  husband. 

It  was  a  consolation  above  all  things  to  know  that  she  died 
so  peacefully  ;  that  she  fell  asleep  in  Christ ;  that  she  would  be 
raised  incorruptible  in  the  morning  of  the  glorious  resurrection  ; 
but  yet  that  home  was  desolate  without  the  sweet  words  of 
hope  that  ever  dropped  from  her  lips ;  that  came  as  manna  to 
the  barren  desert  of  many  a  poor  heart  that  had  listened  to  her 
counsellings;  that  had  been  blessed  both  spiritually  and  tempo- 
rally by  this  kind-hearted  woman. 

The  moonlight  streamed  through  the  closed  shutters  of  that 
chamber  of  death,  where  the  mother  of  Elice  had  been  laid ; 
the  same  little  room  where  they  had  been  together  so  much ; 
where  the  family  had  gathered  in  prayer;  and  this  loved  one  so 
many  times  asked  God  to  give  her  all  of  her  dear  children  to 
go  with  her  to  that  Happy  Land :  and,  entering,  Elice  sat  there 
•long  hours  with  folded  hands  and  streaming  eyes,  watching  by 
the  side  of  the  sleeper,  and  wishing  that  she  was  as  free  from 
sin  as  her  darling  mother  had  been,  and  desiring  above  all 
things  that  she  could  lead  as  blameless  a  life.  She  thought  of 
the  vacant  chair  at  the  table ;  the  seat  at  church,  where  she  had 
been  in  attendance  so  many  years ;  the  vacuum  at  the  altar  of 
prayer ;  the  loss  of  her  strengthening  influences ;  the  touch  nof 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  22C/ 

that  dear,  administering  hand  in  sickness ;  and  a  sense  of  lone- 
liness and  desolation  swept  over  her,  that  she  had  never — no, 
never  felt  in  all  her  life,  before.  And  she  hoped  that  God,  in 
his  precious  love,  would  see  fit,  at  not  a  far  distant  time,  to  call 
her  hence  from  her  troubles ;  that  together  they  would  rest  so 
sweetly  under  the  beautiful  maples  that  were  so  soon  to  over- 
shadow her  mother ;  where  she  would  be  free  from  the  oppres- 
sions that  had  converted  a  happy  life  into  one  of  anxiety  and 
sorrow ;  for  the  mildew  had  already  gathered  upon  her  young 
heart,  withering  its  flowers  in  the  spring  time  of  their  freshness ; 
each  rivulet  of  happiness  frozen  beneath  the  icicles  of  terror 
and  fear ;  and  the  foliage  of  its  brightest  vegetation  blackened 
by  despair. 

She  started  up ;  she  pressed  kisses  upon  the  brow,  the  cheeks, 
the  lips  of  her  dead  ;  she  laid  her  face  to  hers ;  she  took  her 
hands,  while  her  thoughts  again  went  upwards : — 

' '  O  Thou  to  whom  this  heart  ne'er  yet 
Turned,  in  anguish  or  regret, 
The  past  forgive ;  the  future  spare  ; 
Sweet  Spirit,  hear  my  prayer  ! 
Oh !  leave  me  not  alone  in  grief ; 
Send  this  blighted  heart  relief ; 
Make  Thou  my  life  Thy  future  care  ; 
Sweet  Spirit,  hear  my  prayer ! " 

She  then  went  to  her  room — to  her  couch ;  but  not  to  sleep ; 
for  all  night  long  an  upturned  face  was  before  her,  radiant  as 
that  of  an  angel,  white  as  the  drapery  of  frost  that  hung  at  this 
time  upon  every  living  thing  under  the  broad,  blue  sky ;  and  a 
grave — a  new  made  grave  not  a  hundred  rods  away,  where  the 
winds  were  now  moaning  out  a  requiem  for  the  departed.  And 
so,  when  morning  came,  she  had  never  closed  her  eyes  to  slum- 
ber. The  next  day  she  was  buried.  Before  Elice  left  for 
her  western  home,  which  she  did  on  the  coming  day  she 
strewed  flowers  upon  her  grave,  and  bade  her  farewell  with 
these  words:  "Dearest,  best,  kindest  of  mothers,  by  the  aid 
of  the  power  that  watches  over  all  our  movements;  by  that 
grace  which  God  sees  fit  to  shower  upon  His  creatures  here 


23O  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

below,  we  will  meet  thee  again,  when  our  life's  pilgrimage  is  at  a 
close,  and  Christ  by  his  ministering  angels  shall  say,  'It  is 
enough;  thy  work  upon  earth  is  accomplished.'  " 

For  months  Elice  never  slept  but  she  dreamed  of  her  mother ; 
and  scarcely  a  moment  passed  but  she  was  in  her  mind. 

The  following  poem  will  describe  her  feelings,  written  the 
winter  after  her  death : 

"Fierce,  fierce,  are  the  winds  ! 

Their  icy  breath  binds 

All  the  green,  grassy  plains 

With  their  cold,  icy  chains. 

Out,  out,  in  the  storm, 

There  lies  a  loved  form, 

Where  the  pale  moonbeams  lay  ; 
f.  Through  the  tall  maples  play. 

Under  the  snow, 

Low,  very  low ; 

With  a  brow  pure  and  white, 

As  the  frosts  of  the  night  ; 

And  clasped  hands  as  cold, 

As  the  drapery  fold 

That  long  ago  covered  the  beautiful  flowers  ; 
That  long  ago  spread  over  summer's  green  bowers  ; 
There,  there,  where  the  storm-cloud  this  bitter  night  sweeps, 
My  best  beloved  lies — there  she  sleeps,  sweetly  sleeps. 
All  the  light  shut  away  from  her  soft  hazel  eyes, 
There  she  lies  !  there  she  lies  !  my  dear  mother  lies. 

There,  there  is  her  bed  ; 

For,  oh  !  she  is  dead. 

And  will  she  not  come  if  I  call  ? 

Her  dear  gentle  hand  let  it  fall, 

So  softly  again 
•  On  my  brow  of  pain  ? 

Never  more,  never  more, 

Will  her  voice  as  of  yore 

Sweetly  fall  on  my  ear 

My  sad  spirit  to  cheer  ? 

Never  more,  never  more  her  blessed  songs  be  heard, 
More  dear  to  my  heart  than  the  notes  of  a  bird  ? 
Never  more,  never  more  a  smile  light  her  brow  ; 
Has  she  gone,  and  forever  gone  from  me  now  ? 
Never  more,  never  more  my  weary  life  bless 
With  a  fond  kiss  of  love — with  a  caress  ? 
To  the  kind,  loving  hearts  that  await  her  at  home, 
Will  she  come  never  more,  never  more  will  she  come  ? 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  23  I 

Through  the  darkness  of  night,  from  the  fathomless  shore, 

Ring  out  the  sad  words,  "  Never  more,  never  more  !" 

But  from  her  cold  grave  the  moss  rose  shall  rear 

It's  beautiful  head,  when  spring  shall  appear  ; 

And  the  violet  sweet,  and  the  lily  shall  bloom 

On  her  green  grassy  grave,  now  an  ice-fettered  tomb." 


232  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

Susan  did  not  go  to  her  uncle's,  as  she  expected.  Mr.  Clay- 
ton told  her  she  could  not  be  spared  in  the  absence  of  his  wife ; 
so  she  gave  up  her  trip  for  another  year ;  she  would  then  be 
twenty-one,  she  thought,  and  would  make  her  home  among  her 
friends:  then  her  chances  would  be  better  for  carrying  on  some 
of  her  diabolical  schemes,  as  the  mistress  kept  too  close  a  watch 
over  her  proceedings,  when  she  was  around.  Once  aware  that 
she  would  not  scruple  at  any  time  and  place  to  steal  whatever 
lay  in  her  way,  sure  of  her  acquittal  by  her  husband,  and  not 
having  the  power  to  dismiss  her,  Elice  had  been  doubly  cau- 
tious; feeling  assured  that  something  would  turn  up  that  he 
would  be  as  glad  as  she  to  rid  himself  of  this  obnoxious  person. 

Mr.  Clayton  was  nervous  and  excited.  He  had  received  a 
telegram  that  a  lawsuit  in  which  thousands  of  dollars  were 
involved,  had  been  lost ;  and  instead  of  placing  his  pocketbook 
containing  a  large  amount  of  money  in  the  chamber  secured 
by  the  combination  lock,  he  put  it  into  one  of  the  little  drawers 
outside. 

Susan  watched  every  movement — was  ready  to  avail  herself  of 
this  bit  of  carelessness  on  his  part,  and  to  set  at  work  to  obtain 
the  money  as  soon  as  there  was  a  fitting  opportunity.  She  had 
one  of  his  keys  to  the  outside  door  of  the  safe — had  found  it 
in  his  bedroom  one  morning  when  sweeping — which  he  had  not 
missed. 

The  clock    struck  twelve.       Listening   at   the    door   of  the 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  233 

apartment  where  he  slept;  his  heavy  breathing  fell  upon  her 
ears.  "Now  is  my  time,"  she  thought,  and,  going  to  the  safe, 
she  unlocked  it  and  was  soon  in  possession  of  all  the  money 
here  deposited.  The  next  thing  she  did  was  to  hide  it  in  some 
safe  place,  go  cautiously  to  the  outside  door,  open  it,  throw  all 
the  papers  around  the  safe,  and  then  set  up  a  hideous  cry  of 
' '  thieves !  robbers ! "  to  awaken  the  master  of  the  house. 

All  this  was  so  successfully  managed,  that  he  actually 
thought  he  had  been  robbed  by  skillful  burglars,  and  that  they 
had  made  good  their  escape.  So,  long  before  morning,  a  hun- 
dred men  were  in  search  of  these  villains,  looking  in  every 
direction.  There  had  been  no  train  out  of  the  place  since  the 
depredation  ;  so  they  must  be  secreted  in  the  woods  or  some 
other  hiding  place,  and  of  course,  they  were  sure  to  be 
found,  so  they  said.  But  when  the  next  evening  came  and  the 
men  were  in  from  all  the  points  assigned  them,  they  had  gained 
no  clue  to  the  thieves,  and  it  seemed  quite  probable  that  Mr. 
Clayton  would  never  know  what  had  become  of  his  money. 
But,  gathering  up  the  best  knowledge  that  could  be  gained 
after  listening  to  the  story  of  the  servant  girl,  and  putting  all 
manner  of  questions  to  her,  the  "local"  furnished  this  thrilling 
report  for  the  Herald  of  the  following  morning : 

"  DARING  ROBBERY ! 

"  Three  masked  men,  armed  with  bowie  knives  and  revol- 
vers, entered  the  residence  of  our  wealthy  townsman,  Walter 
Clayton,  Esq.,  and,  while  the  family  were  sleeping  soundly  in 
their  beds — no  doubt  sweetly  dreaming  of  peace  and  repose — 
succeeded  in  taking  three  thousand  dollars  from  his  safe.  It  is 
supposed  the  family  were  all  chloroformed  excepting  Susan,  the 
servant,  who  slept  in  a  little  room  adjoining,  which  was  not  vis- 
ited by  them,  but  who,  in  awakening,  showed  the  most  un- 
bounded bravery  in  screaming  at  the  top  of  her  voice  for  the 
master  of  the  house  and  assistance,  while  they  threatened  to 
shoot  her  if  she  did  not  keep  quiet.  Why  they  did  not,  is  the 
mystery;  but  probably  they  were  anxious  to  expedite  business, 
and  did  not  care  to  link  themselves,  if  ever  caught,  with  the 
15 


234  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

double  crime  of  robbery  and  murder.  The  girl  should  be  re- 
warded, for,  of  course,  she  did  her  best  to  avert  the  theft,  even 
at  the  peril  of  her  own  life.  We  trust  the  rogues  will  be  dis- 
covered and  brought  to  justice." 

Susan  did  not  seem  at  peace ;  she  was  continually  asking  when 
Mrs.  Clayton  was  to  return,  and  alleging  that  she  had  several 
letters  from  her  uncle,  asking  her  to  hasten  her  visit ;  that  she 
would  like  to  go  very  soon.  She  feared  her  money  was  not  in 
a  secure  place,  and  her  desire  was  to  leave  before  she  was 
suspected.  Getting  up  one  morning,  she  said  she  would  be 
obliged  to  start  on  the  noon  express ;  for  she  had  received  a 
telegram  and  a  horse  and  carriage  were  to  be  sent  to  the  station, 
a  distance  of  eight  miles  to  meet  her  at  her  arrival ;  and  she  did 
not  want  to  disappoint  her  kind  friends.  By  a  great  deal  of 
persuasion,  however,  Mr.  Clayton  got  her  to  remain  another 
week,  by  telling  her  he  would  send  them  word  himself,  and 
apprise  them  of  her  different  arrangements. 

That  evening  Elice  returned  from  her  mother's  funeral ;  she 
had  been  gone  two  weeks,  only,  from  home ;  but  in  that  time 
flowers  had  been  removed  from  her  bonnets,  velvet  ribbons 
ripped  from  her  dresses;  while  several  articles  were  missing; 
silver  spoons  she  had  put  away  so  carefully,  gone ;  and  what  she 
had  prized  as  one  of  her  dearest  treasures — a  miniature  of  little 
Robin  when  a  baby,  in  a  lovely  case — no  where  to  be  found. 
She  was  sick  at  heart,  but  said  nothing. 

Susan  had  a  little  trunk  that  she  always  kept  locked,  that 
Elice  thought  she  would  visit  on  the  first  opportunity.  She 
knew  it  would  not  be  worth  while  to  divulge  her  plan  to  her  hus- 
band, for  he  would  pay  no  attention  to  her,  unless  it  was  to  ac- 
cuse her  of  fault-finding  ;  so,  one  evening,  in  the  absence  of  the 
servant  girl,  she  went  to  her  room,  and,  with  a  key  she  had  pro- 
cured for  the  occasion,  opened  it ;  and  here  she  not  only  found 
all  the  missing  articles,  but  little  Blanche's  locket  and  chain,  the 
same  she  had  toiled  so  hard  to  earn  money  enough  to  buy  back 
of  her  ;  then  the  bird  of  paradise,  together  with  silver  and  gold 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  235 

coin  that  had  been  given  the  children,  which  they  supposed 
were  now  safely  stored  away  in  their  little  banks. 

She  suspected  that  this  girl  was  now  in  possession  of  the 
missing  money,  and  she  set  about  to  detect  her  if  possible.  So, 
one  day  after  all  the  family  had  left  the  house,  Susan  could  not 
withstand  the  temptation  to  again,  count  her  treasured  pile  and 
gloat  her  eyes  over  her  ill-gotten  gains.  Elice  had  a  key  to  her 
room,  and,  coming  back  suddenly,  she  unlocked  the  door  and 
there  found  her  just  putting  it  all  back  in  its  hiding  place, 
which  was  in  the  straw  of  her  bed.  She  found  she  was  caught 
and  offered  compromise. 

"  I'll  give  you  half  if  you  won't  tell ;  I'll  kill  you  if  you  do. 
Here  swear — on  this  Bible  !  "  and  sprang  and  locked  her  in. 
Elice  smiled.  She  saw  she  had  a  part  to  play,  for,  here  alone 
with  this  girl,  who  seemed  now  a  very  demon,  with  twice  her 
strength,  a  fear  of  detection  and  a  desire  to  save  her  treasures, 
she  knew  not  what  might  happen. 

"  You — you  broke  into  my  trunk  yesterday — somebody  did, 
and  I  b'l'eve  'twas  you  !  I'll  put  you  where  the  dogs  won't 
bite  you,  I  believe,  any  how  !  " 

"  But  you  wouldn't  harm  me,  Susan.  I  never  wronged  you  ; 
besides,  you  would  be  hung." 

"Don't  keer  !  don't  keer!  I  wouldn't  nuther,  because  old 
Clayton  wouldn't  let  me  ;  he  hates  you,  and  would  be  glad  if 
you's  out  of  the  way,  so  he  would." 

Susan  sprang  and  grasped  a  revolver  that  she  had  concealed 
— another  one  of  the  missing  articles  belonging  to  the  house — 
and  held  it  at  her  head. 

"  You  say  you'll  swear  ?" 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  said  Elice,  with  the  greatest  com- 
posure ;  "but  you  must  sit  down  ;  I  have  a  capital  plan  for  us 
both." 

"And  then  you  won't  tell  ?  " 

"  I'll  do  just  as  I  say.     Did  I  ever  tell  you  a  lie?" 

"You  didn't — no,  you  didn't,"  and  she  sat  down  quietly. 


236  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

Some  minutes  elapsed.  Elice  said,  "  I  have  been  to  your 
trunk  and  found  many  missing  articles.  Will  you  replace 
everything  if  I  will  keep  your  secret?"  But  with  two  bits  of 
rope  which  she  found  on  the  floor,  she  was  preparing  a  noose 
to  entrap  her,  in  case  she  would  not  conform  to  her  wishes. 

"  I'll  give  you  all  but  the  money;  and  you  shall  help  me  to 
get  off  to  my  uncle's.  You  won't  lie  ;  your  word's  better  than 
that  are  book,"  pointing  to  the  Bible.  "  Will  you  ?" 

"  You  must  give  up  the  money,  too,  Susan." 

"  No,  I  won't.  You  don't  want  to  git  me  too  mad,  or  you'll 
be  sorry  ! "  and  with  these  words  she  stood  erect,  her  hands 
clasped  behind  her,  while  she  still  held  the  revolver,  but  this 
time  with  the  trigger  in  readiness  to  pull. 

Elice  knew  there  was  danger,  but  her  trap  was  ready,  and, 
quick  as  thought,  and  before  the  girl  was  aware  what  she  was 
doing,  she  had  slid  the  rope  over  her  hands,  drawn  up  the  knot, 
and  with  the  other  end,  in  which  there  too  was  a  loop,  had 
thrown  it  over  the  post  of  an  old  fashioned  bedstead  and 
secured  the  prisoner.  Susan,  wild  with  fright,  begged  for  mercy, 
promising  everything  if  she  would  but  liberate  her;  but  Elice 
unlocking  the  door,  hurried  as  fast  as  she  could  for  an  officer. 
Meeting  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ashton,  who  were  out  for  a  morning 
walk,  she  told  them  all  the  circumstances,  and  asked  them  to 
come  as  witnesses,  which  they  willingly  did.  The  four  entered 
the  apartment  where  the  servant  girl  was  secured. 

"  Will  you  give  me  the  key  to  your  truuk?"  said  Elice. 

"  Here  it  is,  then.  What  do  you  want  of  it?  "  she  answered 
sullenly. 

Elice  handed  it  to  the  officer.  He  opened  the  trunk,  and, 
as  we  heretofore  said,  the  most  of  the  stolen  articles  taken  from 
each  member  of  the  family  since  she  came  to  the  house  were 
there  found. 

Mrs.  Ashton  espied  the  chain  and  locket — the  same  that  Elice 
had  been  accused  of  trading  to  a  peddler  for  silverware ;  about 
which  reports  had  gone  forth  through  the  whole  town ;  and  a 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  237 

few  had  sympathized  with  Mr.  Clayton  about  it,  saying  it  was 
hard  to  have  his  first  wife's  likeness  stolen ;  and  that  Elice  had 
no  business  to  do  such  a  mean  thing,  if  she  was  jealous  of  her. 
But  here  it  was,  and  Mrs.  Ashton  said,  "  ought  not  to  be  given 
him  at  all,  for  he  had  no  right  to  keep  thievish  servants  in  the 
family  and  then  lay  his  losses  on  an  innocent  wife." 

Just  as  they  had  taken  the  last  article  from  the  trunk,  and 
after  Susan  had  delivered  up  the  money,  confessing  everything, 
Mr.  Clayton  came  in.  .  ''What  is  all  this  row  about?"  were 
his  first  words. 

"I  suppose  you  will  be  pleased  to  know,"  said  the  officer, 
"that  all  your  lost  property  has  been  found  and  your  money 
returned." 

"I  looked  for  you,"  said  Elice,  "and  you  were  nowhere  to 
be  found ;  and,  as  I  felt  the  necessity  of  hurrying  up  matters, 
I  took  this  business  upon  myself." 

"Why! — how? — you  don't  mean  to  say  that  Susan  is  the 
thief?  I  don't  believe  it." 

"But  it  nevertheless  is  true,"  replied  the  officer;  "  she  has 
owned  it." 

"  And  here  is  your  missing  miniature  and  chain,"  said  Elice, 
reproachfully,  "for  which  I  have  been  compelled  to  suffer  so 
much." 

' '  Which, "  added  Mrs.  Ashton,  ' '  you  told  me  and  others  were 
stolen  by  your  wife,  when  it  was  that  cringing,  trembling  beast 
of  prey  that  for  the  past  three  years  has  hovered  over  your 
house  like  the  locusts  of  Egypt,  ready  to  destroy  every  green 
thing  that  might  have  grown  up  in  your  household ;  and  you 
knew  it,  and  yet,  you  keep  her  for  a  pest  to  your  family,  who 
dared  not  open  their  lips  lest  oaths  and  imprecations  should  be 
heaped  upon  them.  Shame  !  You  both  ought  to  be  in  prison." 

Mr.  Clayton  at  his  request  was  left  alone  with  the  prisoner. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  said  Susan. 

"Why,  nothing.  I  have  my  money;  that  is  all  I  want;" 
and  he  sat  down  and  commenced  counting  it. 


238  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

"It's  all  there.     No  use  of  that.      I  only  took  it  for  a  joke." 

"I  presume  so;  mighty  big  one,  though!  " 

"  I  didn't  know  but  you'd  send  me  to  prison,  that  is,  if  you 
da — st ;  but  I  didn't  bel'eve  you  dast,  for — you  know — and  I 
wasn't  no  big  fool  nuther ;  weze  in  the  same  boat.  You 
remember  that  big  lie  I  swore  to  for  you  ?  And  you  swore  to 
the  same  thing ;  and  I  was  kalkerlating,  if  you  found  me  out, 
and  made  a  muss  with  me,  I  was  going  to  be  even  anyhow ; 
and  if  I  had  to  look  through  one  pigeon  hole,  why  !  it  wouldn't 
matter  much,  for  you'd  be  looking  through  another  at  the  same 
time." 

"  Do  you  want  to  start  for  your  uncle's  to-day  ?" 

"  Yes,  if  you'll  give  me  five  hundred  dollars  to  go  with." 

"  I  won't  do  it." 

"Well,  then,  s'posin'  I  tell  some  of  the  things  what  I  know?  " 

"  No  one  would  believe  you." 

"  If  I  swore,  wouldn't  they?" 

"  Not  with  my  oath  against  yours." 

"But  what  if  I  can  bring  two  or  three  what  knows  the  same 
thing?  " 

"Who  are  they?" 

"  You  know  well  enough  all  about  it — my  father  and  mother; 
and  they'd  be  glad  to  have  a  chance  to  swear  against  you.  Will 
you  give  me  the  money?  If  you  will,  I'll  never  trouble  you 
again.  I  know  a  heap,  and  have  a  good  tongue  to  let  out  on 
you ;  and  no  one  ken  hender  me." 

He  counted  it  out  to  her,  and  helped  her  away  on  the  even- 
ing express. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  239 


CHAPTER  XL. 

Six  years  have  passed.  The  dim  twilight  is  fading  into  night. 
The  birds  have  hushed  their  notes  and  gone  to  their  dreams ; 
while  the  gentle  breath  of  a  beautiful  summer  evening  fans  the 
cheeks  of  two  as  ardent  lovers  as  the  world  ever  produced — 
Sammie  Wilmington  and  Blanche  Clayton.  They  had  come  to 
this  day  through  great  tribulation,  but  are  now  as  happy  in  each 
other's  society  as  it  is  possible  under  the  circumstances ;  and, 
seated  side  by  side,  they  talk  of  their  future  prospects  and 
form  plans,  exchange  words  of  endearment  and  encouragement, 
hoping  their  troubles  are  nearly  at  an  end  and  the  time  not  far 
distant  when  the  dearest  hopes  of  their  lives  will  be  consum- 
nated. 

"  In  a  year  more  I  shall  graduate,"  Sammie  remarked,  "  and 
then,  darling,  I  shall  come  and  claim  you  as  my  own.  Oh, 
happy  day  to  you  and  me !  I  am  not  rich,  as  you  know,  but  am 
offered  a  professorship  in  the  college  where  I  have  been  attend- 
ing. I  can  support  you ;  and  a  good  living  is  all  that  is  neces- 
sary for  the  present.  By  and  by,  when  we  get  older,  we  will 
have  luxuries,  perhaps ;  but  let  come  what  may,  these  willing 
hands  will  work  for  one  who  has  been  my  idol  through  all  the 
past  years  of  my  life.  What  say  you  ?  " 

"  But  if  papa  should  not  give  his  consent?" 

"He  will,  dearest.  What  objection  can  he  bring  to  our 
union  ?  I  know  he  used  to  dislike  me,  but  I  thought  that  was 
all  past." 


24O  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

"  He  even  hates  you.  Through  all  the  years  of  my  acquaint- 
ance, I  have  never  dared  to  invite  you  to  our  house." 

"I  know,  and  haye  felt  grieved;  but  you  have  always  had 
some  good  excuse  for  our  meeting  at  other  places  than  your 
home,  and  never  hinted  at  this  truth.  But  I  will  go  to  him  at 
once,  tell  him  how  essential  it  is  to  our  happiness  for  him  to 
feel  differently ;  to  acquiesce  in  our  plans ;  and  then  I  see  of 
no  other  obstacle  in  the  way  of  our  union.  I  cannot  return  to 
my  lessons  until  I  know  all." 

Blanche  shook  like  the  leaves  over  their  heads.  She  dreaded 
to  have  Sammie  say  anything  to  her  father,  for  she  knew  how 
terrible  his  wrath  had  been  at  different  times  when  he  had  heard 
hints  of  the  relationship  that  existed  between  them ;  how  he 
had  stormed,  and  threatened,  and  raved  ;  but  that  was  long 
ago,  and  he  had  scarcely  mentioned  his  name  in  her  presence 
since.  Once  or  twice,  however,  when  some  one  had  spoken  of 
his  high  literary  attainment,  she  had  heard  him  say,  "  Humph  ! 
that  fellow  is  nobody,  nor  ever  will  be.  I  don't  like  that  pau- 
per blood  of  his;  "  and  she  felt  that  it  would  be  almost  useless 
to  say  anything  to  him ;  and  feared  an  open  insult  to  Sammie, 
if  he  should  venture  to  approach  him;  so  she  said,  "I  will 
speak  to  papa  myself,  about  the  matter." 

"Your  wishes  are  my  law,  Blanche.  He  surely  will  listen  to 
you,"  and  here  they  parted  for  the  night. 

Going  up  to  him  the  next  morning,  Blanche  laid  her  hand  on 
his  shoulder,  and,  smiling,  said,  "  Papa,  I  have  a  few  words  to 
say  to  you.  Can  I  see  you  in  my  room?" 

"I  guess  so,"  he  answered  drily,  "what  do  you  want?" 

After  she  had  led  the  way  to  her  own  little  room  up  stairs, 
she  told  him  of  her  feelings  respecting  Sammie ;  plead  his 
cause  eloquently  with  her  tears,  and  the  strongest  language 
love  could  assume.  Said  she:  "I  know  of  his  poverty;  but 
for  this  I  do  not  care,  he  has  splendid  habits,  and  great  tal- 
ents ;  and  I  am  sure  you  will  never  have  cause  to  regret  that 
you  have  given  your  consent  to  our  marriage." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  24! 

"What  is  all  this  about?"  he  said  in  great  wrath ;  "you  don't 
mean  that  you  really  love  that  low  born  idiot;  that  he  has 
dared  to  aspire  to  your  hand?  Never — never  shall  you  marry 
him !  I  would  see  the  sod  open  and  swallow  you  up  first ! 
Where  is  he?  I  thought  that  tomfoolery  of  yours  was  at  an 
'end,  and  it  has  only  broken  out  fresh  again ;  that  he  had  gone 
away  from  the  place,  and  was  not  troubling  my  head  any  more 
about  him  !  Blanche,  you  must  never  speak  to  him  again  ; 
but,  should  you  be  foolish  enough  to  join  your  destiny  with  his, 
I'll  disown  you :  I'll  cut  you  off  without  a  cent !  Where  is  he 
now?  The  villain!  the  villain!  Loafing  around  town,  some- 
where, I  presume.  I'll  go  and  find  him,  and  give  him  a  good 
thrashing !  " 

"O  papa!  please  do  not  get  so  angry.  Indeed,  you  have  no 
cause  to  pour  out  your  wrath  upon  Sammie,  who  never  did  a 
-mean  act  in  his  life ;  whose  only  crime — if  that  be  one — is  his 
poverty.  Once  you  were  poor ;  and  boastingly  I  have  heard 
you  speak  of  the  first  money  you  ever  earned.  You  then  seemed 
as  proud  as  a  king  to  be  reckoned  among  the  self-made  men  of 
your  age." 

"  I  know  not  why,  but  I  despised  him  from  the  time  he  came 
begging  at  my  door,  when  a  little  boy.  I  hate  beggars." 

"You  mean  when  he  came  with  the  flowers  to  sell,  when 
his  poor  mother  lay  dying?  I  have  heard  mamma  tell  the  whole 
story?" 

"The  same.  But  what  was  that  but  begging?  His  flowers 
were  not  worth  anything." 

' '  The  act  was  not  only  laudable,  but  praiseworthy.  Have 
you  seen  him  lately?" 

"Not  since  he  went  away  four  years  ago;  but  I  hate  him — I 
always  did  and  I  always  shall !  " 

"You  have  no  reason  to." 

' '  His  father  was  a  drunkard,  his  mother  a  vile  woman.  What 
good  comes  of  such?  " 

"You  speak  of  that  you  know  nothing." 


242  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

"But  that  is  the  story;  and  I  wonder  that  he  was  ever 
adopted  by  Professor  Wilmington.  But  he  has  no  money  to 
give  him — is  one  of  those  persons  who  live  from  hand  to  mouth 
— nothing  but  a  schoolmaster.  Beautiful  legacy  to  leave  a  child 
— a  few  books,  a  dog  and  a  cat, — a  horse  and  carriage,  perhaps ! 
Why,  he  does  not  even  own  the  house  he  lives  in." 

"But  Sammie  may  one  day  be  rich  like  yourself.  Should 
he  be—" 

"  Plead  his  cause  no  longer.  I  have  told  you  what  you  may 
depend  upon,  and  I  will  not  change  my  mind." 

' '  O  papa,  reconsider !  Let  me  invite  him  to  our  house,  and 
then  you  can  judge  for  yourself  respecting  him  ;  he  has  changed 
so  much  and  for  the  better  since  you  saw  him  last! " 

' '  Never  !  never !  I  have  already  selected  a  husband  for  you 
— rich  and  powerful.  Marry  him,  and  a  large  fortune  shall  be 
yours  ;  dare  to  thwart  my  wishes,  and  I  will  leave  you  a  beggar 
— now  choose."  Saying  this,  he  left  the  room  muttering  curses 
upon  the  poor  orphan  that  had  dared  to  come  between  him  and 
his  fondest  wishes. 

Blanche  sat  down.  She  was  pale,  and  in  the  greatest  state  of 
excitement  and  anxiety  ;  for  she  felt  that  her  father's  words  were 
irrevocable;  that  he  would  carry  out  the  threat  that  he  had 
made  irrespective  of  her  feelings  ;  and  so  trembled  as  she 
thought  of  the  future ;  and  sorrowed  as  one  without  hope  when 
she  saw  all  of  the  bright  castles  she  had  raised  in  her  imagination 
demolished ;  and,  so  far  as  she  could  see,  no  kindly  beaming 
star  of  hope  ever  to  arise  that  could  banish  the  mists  of  dark- 
ness which  had  been  scattered  around  her  young  life  by  the  cruel 
and  bitter  words  of  her  tyrannical  father ;  for  she  had  never 
known  anything  in  her  life  but  submission  to  his  strong  will. 
And  she  knew  not  how  'to  go  to  work  to  sever  the  great  iron 
chain  that  had  been  growing  stronger  and  stronger  for  years  ; 
that  seemed  always  to  come  between  her  and  everything  she 
most  desired,  hedging  up  her  way,  and  making  her  life  misera- 
ble. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  243 

Evening  came.  Sammie  was  passing  through  the  park  ;  his 
steps  were  slow,  for  he  was  thinking  of  the  school  days  spent 
in  the  old  academy,  when,  day  after  day,  he  was  permitted  to 
behold  and  even  to  hold  conversation  with  one  who  had  always 
occupied  the  highest  seat  in  his  affections.  And  he  felt  a  strange 
fear  that  they  must  be  separated,  perhaps  forever.  He  be- 
lieved that  all  was  not  right,  and  oh  !  if  this  should  prove  true, 
what  would  his  ambition  amount  to  ?  for,  with  all  his  hopes  for 
future  greatness  there  was  mingled  a  sweet  voice  cheering  him 
on  :  through  all  his  persecutions  about  his  birth  and  parentage 
there  was  always  one  strong  defender  of  his  rights — Blanche. 
If  she  should  fail  him  ?  What  would  he  do  ? 

(i  It  must  not  be  !  it  must  not  be  !  I'll  go  to  her  father,  my- 
self. He  surely  is  not  the  cruel  man  to  wish  to  sacrifice  her 
happiness  for  all  her  life  on  the  shrine  of  mammon." 

Blanche  was  passing  at  this  hour,  on  her  way  to  the  house  of 
a  friend  who  lived  just  outside  of  the  academy  ground,  and  as  it 
was  much  the  nearer,  she  had  entered  the  enclosure  and  was 
hurrying  as  fast  as  she  could  to  her  place  of  destination.  She 
did  not  see  Sammie  until  he  called  her  name. 

' '  I  am  so  glad  for  this  blessed  moment ;  for,  do  you  know, 
darling,  I  have  been  entertaining  vague  and  incomprehensible 
fears  ;  I  have  been  thinking — but  I  will  not  say.  Did  you  speak 
to  your  father?  " 

"  I  did.  O  Sammie  !  "  and  she  turned  her  face  away  that  he 
might  not  see  its  paleness. 

"  Tell  me  the  worst." 

"  He  forbids  my  speaking  to  you  again  under  the  penalty  of 
witholding  my  portion  of  his  property  from  me." 

"  That  is  nothing.     We  will  not  need  it." 

' '  Worse  than  that — he  is  going  to  oblige  me  to  marry  a  man 
I  hate." 

"  Oblige  you  !    Can  he  do  it !  " 

' '  I  have  always  obeyed  him  ;  I  have  never  dared  to  do  other- 
wise— he  is  my  father,  you  know." 


244  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

"  And  you  will  accede  to  his  wishes?" 

Blanche  had  not  time  to  reply  before  another  form  was  seen 
treading  the  stone  pavement,  who,  coming  closer,  she  recog- 
nized as  her  father. 

"Villain!  pauper!  knave!"  he  roared.  "You  have  stolen 
my  daughter's  affections  and  now  you  would  ruin  her  ?  "  and  he 
sprang  and  grasped  him  by  the  throat.  With  one  firm  grip, 
Sammie  grasped  the  hand  of  his  antagonist  and  loosened  it : 
then  in  a  mild  voice  said,  "  Mr.  Clayton,  I  see  no  good  reason 
for  this  assault ;  for  Heaven  knows  I  would  not  harm  one  hair 
of  your  daughter's  head.  If  you  do  not  like  me,  it  is  no  rea- 
son you  should  abuse  me ;  if  I  am  not  rich,  I  am  at  least  hon- 
orable. We  met  by  accident.  I  had  started  for  my  boarding 
place — she,  for  the  house  of  Mr.  Miller  just  through  that  gate ; 
so  do  not  blame  her  for  this  meeting." 

Mr.  Clayton  mistook  his  game.  He  had  looked  upon  Sam- 
mie as  a  mere  boy,  and  he  was  surprised  and  awed  to  find  in 
him,  not  only  an  equal  in  courage,  but  more  in  strength ;  and 
he  believed,  in  spite  of  his  mild  language,  that  it  would  not  do 
to  trust  too  much  to  his  good  nature.  So  he  said  coolly,  "I 
want  no  fuss,  sir,  and  if  it  is  as  you  say,  you  are  excusable ; 
but  I  had  forbidden  Blanche  having  anything  to  do  with  you 
for  reasons  best  known  to  myself." 

"Will  you  please  tell  me  your  prejudices  ?  I  am  not  aware 
of  having  merited  censure,  and  I  assure  you,  I  shall  ever  strive 
to  be  worthy  of  so  estimable  an  acquaintance  and  friend  as 
your  daughter." 

"Since  you  have  asked  me,  I  will  be  plain.  You  have 
sought  her  society  when  you  knew  it  was  in  direct  opposition 
to  my  wishes ;  won  her  affections,  and  asked  her  hand  in  mar- 
riage ?  Do  you  deny  it  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  and  yet  I  fail  to  see  myself  a  culprit.  t  I  love  her ; 
I  would  make  her  my  wife.  Is  there  anything  discreditable 
about  that?" 

Mr.  Clayton's  hot  temper  again  gained  the  mastery  of  him. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  245 

He  forgot  the  diplomacy — that  it  were  better  to  keep  cool  and 
collected,  than  saucy  and  arrogant ;  and  so  answered  Sammie 
according  to  the  folly  of  a  purse-proud  tyrant  who  knows  of  no 
other  rule  with  which  to  measure  the  world  around  him  than 
the  money  they  may  chance  to  possess. 

"  Sir,  you  are  a  pauper.  She  is  my  child ;  and  do  you  know 
what  that  means  ? — a  possessor  of  unbounded  wealth  at  some 
future  time,  if  she  marries  according  to  my  wishes ;  if  she  varies 
from  this,  she  may  trail  her  weary  footsteps  along  the  highway 
and  starve;  I  would  not  help  her  to  a  crust  of  bread." 

"  Demon !  " 

"What!  what,  sir!  do  you  insult  me,  you  vagabond  child  of 
infamy  ?" 

"What  did  you  say?"  roared  Sammie. 

' '  That  your  father  was  a  drunkard  ;  your  mother  a  harlot. 
Dare  to  speak  or  say  it  is  not  so,  and  I'll  swoop  you  to  the 
ground  with  one  blow  !  "  and  with  these  words  he  clasped  his 
throat,  forgetting  again  in  his  wild  frenzy  that  it  was  not  a  child 
with  whom  he  had  to  deal ;  but  a  full-grown  man,  that  would 
avenge  the  wrongs  of  his  sainted  mother,  in  any  spot  and  place, 
if  possible. 

Sammie  once  more  unloosed  his  hold.  "Call  me  what  you 
like,  but  let  my  parents  rest  in  peace;"  and  before  he  was 
scarcely  aware,  Walter  Clayton  lay  upon  the  stone  pavement, 
not  harmed  materially  by  the  blow  upon  his  temples,  justly 
given,  which  he  received  from  the  hands  of  his  opponent;  but, 
like  some  wild  beast,  infuriated  beyond  description,  when  it 
finds  itself  wounded  and  worsted  in  a  fray  to  secure  its  prey. 
But  still,  it  was  some  minutes  before  he  had  recovered  sufficient- 
ly from  the  shock  to  rise.  When  he  did,  he  grasped  his  revol- 
ver and  looked  around ;  vowing  vengeance  upon  that  lad  who 
had  dared  to  insult  him,  as  he  said,  without  cause  or  provoca- 
tion. He  roamed  the  park  for  his  victim,  but  he  was  not  to  be 
found.  Instead  he  came  upon  a  group  of  boys  who  immedi- 
ately fled ;  but  crying  as  loud  as  they  could : 


246  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

' '  Served  you  right,  old  fool !  What  business  had  you  to 
meddle  with  that  feller  jest  goin'  'long  mindin'  his  own  business  ? 
Guess  you  won't  want  to  tackle  a  daysent  boy  agin  ;  and  if  he 
couldn't  licked  you,  we  was  goin'  to  help  him — afther  all  he 
didn't  know  it,  though." 

Walter  Clayton  fired  his  pistol,  but  it  did  no  damage. 

"  Sure  !  we  must  git  out  of  this  or  be  shot,"  they  said,  still 
running  with  their  utmost  speed.  "  He'd  as  live  kill  sum  one 
as  not,  he's  so  mad."  "And  still,  he  dassan't,"  said  one  of  the 
most  courageous  of  the  band  ;  "I  dare  face  him,"  and,  turning 
about,  he  waited  for  Mr.  Clayton  to  come  up.  But  instead,  he 
turned  his  steps  homeward,  hoping  and  praying  that  the  time 
was  not  far  distant  when  he  could  be  avenged  on  the  boy  that 
had  dared  to  take  his  own  part,  or  speak  a  word  in  his  own 
defense. 

Maddened  almost  to  desperation,  he  went  h'ome — then  up 
stairs  to  the  door  of  his  daughter's  room,  where  she  was  sitting, 
and  turned  the  lock.  "There  ma'am,  you  are  a  prisoner  until 
I  release  you  ! "  he  muttered,  then  went  to  his  room  breathing 
cruel  threats  upon  her  ;  which,  of  course,  she  did  not  hear.  But 
there  was  one  who  did,  and  that  was  Elice.  She  asked  him 
what  was  the  matter,  and  told  him  kindly  that  he  had  no  right 
to  treat  a  child  after  this  manner;  that  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten 
it  only  tended  to  fix  her  mind  more  firmly;  and  if  he  did  not 
wish  her  to  associate  with  Sammie  Wilmington,  to  tell  her  the 
why  and  wherefore,  and  do  it  in  a  fatherly  way.  "If  he  is  not 
a  fit  companion  for  her,  prove  it  to  her ;  and  when  she  knows 
the  truth  of  the  statement,  she  will  drop  him  of  her  own  ac- 
cord. " 

He  would  not  listen  to  reason,  however,  and  vowed  she 
should  remain  there  all  the  longer,  now  that  Elice  had  interfered, 
and,  further,  she  should  be  kept  on  bread  and  water.  But 
we  will  now  leave  her  and  look  for  Sammie. 

After  his  skirmish  with  Mr.  Clayton  he  hurriedly  passed  out 
of  the  park  and  went  directly  to  the  grave  of  his  beloved  mother, 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  247 

and  there,  beneath  the  shadows  of  the  willows  that  his  tiny- 
hands  had  planted  immediately  after  her  burial,  whose  branches 
now  drooped  gracefully  over  the  pure  white  monument,  he 
threw  himself  down  in  very  agony  of  spirit,  wishing  and  pray- 
ing that  the  life  which  seemed  destined  to  so  much  bitterness 
would  speedily  come  to  an  end,  and  he  might  join  that  friend 
in  the  skies  ;  whose  love  he  feared  was  the  only  one  to  prove 
true,  and  whose  eyes  seemed  now  to  be  looking  out  from 
among  the  stars  reprovingly — from  that  heaven  of  eternal 
beauty  and  happiness  where  her  pure  spirit  had  found  a  resting 
place.  And  then  a  voice  from  out  the  depths  of  that  same  beau- 
tiful beyond  whispering  to  his  heart,  "  '  Vengeance  is  mine  ;  I 
will  repay,  saith  the  Lord/  'A  soft  answer  turneth  away 
wrath,  but  grievous  words  stir  up  anger.'  O,  Sammie,  my  son, 
my  son  !  Grieve  not,  for  do  you  not  know  I  am  above  the 
reproach  of  the  enemy?"  And  then  he  felt  how  much  better 
it  would  have  been  for  him  had  he  fled  upon  the  first  assault 
from  his  adversary,  and  resolved  he  would  never  again  let  his 
passion  rise  to  a  pitch  so  uncontrollable.  Then  he  thought  of 
the  gulf  between  him  and  Blanche  ;  how  it  had  widened  and 
deepened  in  the  past  hour  ;  and  probably  when  her  father  told 
her  his  exaggerated  story  concerning  the  fray,  that  she  would 
never  speak  to  him  again.  If  such  were  the  case  he  would 
enlist  in  the  army  or  quit  the  country  at  once,  where  he  would 
never  be  heard  of  by  her  ;  bend  all  his  energies  to  business,  and 
never  come  back  until  he  had  amassed  a  fortune  equal  to  that 
of  her  father.  Then,  turning  once  more  to  the  statuette  of  his 
mother,  which  now  in  the  light  of  the  full  round  moon,  looked 
so  lifelike  and  more  lovely  to  his  fevered  imagination  than  it 
ever  did  before,  said  "  Adieu  !  beloved  one,  but  for  thy  spirit- 
ual interference,  my  hands  might  one  day  be  imbued  in  the 
blood  of  the  wretch  that  dared  to  heap  calumny  upon  thy  inno- 
cent head  ;  but  for  thy  sake  I  will  strive  to  rise  above  the  un- 
just remarks  of  all  my  enemies,  ferret  out  thy  history  and  prove 
to  them  their  baseness.  I  know  I  can  do  it,  and  will  with  the 


248  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

help  of  that  God  who  loves  mercy,  and  aids  the  innocent  in  all 
their  laudable  undertakings." 

The  next  morning,  in  accordance  with  his  terrible  fears,  he 
received  the  following  letter : 

"Mr.  Wilmington: — In  view  of  your  base  treatment  of  my 
father,  I  wish  from  this  moment  to  drop  our  acquaintance ;  and 
right  glad  am  I  to  have  had  an  opportunity,  before  matters  pro- 
gressed further,  to  ascertain  your  real  character.  There  were 
several  in  the  park  at  the  time — men  of  standing  and  worth, 
who  would  not  prevaricate — that  told  me  all  about  your  ungen.- 
tlemanly  assault;  how,  without  the  slightest  cause,  you  com- 
menced your  raid  upon  him  who,  when  kindly  endeavoring  to 
make  explanations,  was  leveled  to  the  earth  by  your  brutal 
hand,  whom  you  intended  to  murder,  and  would,  had  your  cow- 
ardice not  prevented.  You  must  never  intrude  yourself  into- 
my  presence  again ;  and  henceforward  let  my  name  never  be 
uttered  by  lips  as  vile  as  yours. 

"I  do  not  ask  you  to  reply,  nor  desire  you  to  do  so.  The 
very  fact  of  what  we  were  to  each  other  sends  a  thrill  of  horror 
to  my  soul.  You,  a  would-be  murderer!  which  of  itself  is  suffi- 
cient to  sever  the  very  last  link  of  friendship  between  us ;  and 
would  say,  go  thousands  of  miles  away  from  here,  and  be  happy,, 
if  you  can,  with  all  this  stain  of  guilt  upon  your  heart. 

"  Yours  truly,  BLANCHE  CLAYTON." 

"Falsehood!  treachery!"  exclaimed  Sammie,  when  he  had 
finished  reading  the  letter.  "  What  enemies  of  mine  have  filled 
the  ears  of  my  affianced  to  change  her  heart,  so  loving,  so  true,, 
so  gentle,  to  one  of  stone?  Oh !  could  she  but  know  the  truth,, 
she  would  not  chide,  but  pity  me — I  who  have  always  striven 
to  do  right;  that  have  struggled  so  hard  against  stern  fortune^ 
and  now,  as  life  had  commenced  to  brighten,  to  see  it  overshad- 
owed by  the  vile  breath  of  slander  and  misrepresentation.  Must 
I  bear  it?  No,  I  will  not;  but,  alas!  there  are  such  fearful  odds: 
Mr.  Clayton  with  a  fortune  to  spend,  if  he  choses,  and  yet  not  be 
impoverished,  upon  men  many  of  whom  for  the  paltry  sum  of 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER. 


249 


five  dollars  would  corroborate  any  falsehood  he  might  utter — 
even  more, — testify,  if  he  desired,  to  the  same ;  and  I — poor — 
without  friends — without  a  dollar  to  defend  my  good  name.  I 
would  go  to  Blanche;  but  it  would  do  no  good:  of  course,  she 
believes  him  with  those  'men  of  worth,'  as  she  affirms,  that 
have  told  her  the  same  story  as  himself  respecting  our  combat. 
So,  once  more  to  thy  grave,  beloved  mother,  to  kiss  the  green 
sod  that  covers  thy  mortal  remains — to  gather  some  of  the  flow- 
ers that  blossom  above  thy  head,  which  I  will  place  with  thy 
miniature  that  I  have  always  worn  upon  my  breast;  which  shall 
henceforward  serve  me  as  a  talisman  to  keep  me  from  yielding 
to  temptation;  and  then,  I  will  roam,  who  cares  whither? — any 
place  but  this  is  preferable,  where,  just  in  sight  of  love's  golden 
chalice,  with  my  hand  upon  the  cup,  it  has  been  dashed  aside." 

16 


25O  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

The  next  day  found  Sammie  Wilmington  seated  in  the  cars 
bound  for  New  York,  intending  to  take  the  next  vessel  out  of 
port  sailing  for  Liverpool. 

"Any  place  but  Lavarre, "  he  thought,  "where  I  am  so 
painfully  reminded  of  the  past — the  birth  as  well  as  the  burial 
place  of  my  .hopes  of  happiness  in  this  world.  If  my  betrothed 
had  only  proved  true,  I  could  have  borne  the  rest  ;  but  she  has 
told  me  to  quit  the  country,  and  if  my  presence  has  become  so 
offensive  to  her,  to  see  her,  and  not  hold  any  communication  is 
worse  than  death  ;  and  I  will  strive  with  all  the  powers  both  of 
mind  and  body  to  bury  all  record  of  the  past  into  oblivion,  and 
to  go  so  far  away  that  my  tormentors  shall  never  hear  of  me 
again." 

Sadly  did  his  eyes  linger  on  the  tall  old  trees  that  shaded  the 
academy,  that  he  perhaps  would  never  again  behold.  Then, 
as  the  cars  rolled  past  the  cemetery,  a  monument  rose  above 
all  the  rest  of  these  time-stained  stones,  that  had  covered  the 
remains  of  one  who  had  never  been  treacherous,  who,  had  she 
lived,  would  have  loved  him  to  the  last.  Then  there  was  the 
river,  whose  waves  seemed  to  sing  out  a  sad  good  bye  as  they 
rippled  over  the  smooth  and  shining  stones  at  the  bottom  ;  the 
lake  with  its  wealth  of  water  lilies  that  were  bending  and  nod- 
ding in  the  delightful  breezes  of  this  summer  morning,  where, 
in  company  with  his  beloved  Blanche,  in  those  little  row  boats 
now  tied  to  the  beach,  he  had  skimmed  its  glassy  surface,  gath- 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  25  I 

ering  armfuls  of  these  flowers,  which  he  then  felt  were  no 
fresher  nor  purer  than  the  heart  that  throbbed  within  her 
bosom.  And  oh  !  how  happy  they  had  been  in  each  other's 
society  ;  how  swiftly  the  hours  had  winged  away,  as  she  had 
sung  to  him  some  of  his  favorite  songs,  while  her  sweet  voice 
was  echoed  back  from  the  chasms  near,  long  after  her  words 
had  died  upon  her  lips  !  Would  he  ever  know  or  realize  such 
bliss  again?  while  another  voice  from  out  the  future  seemed  to 
answer,  "no."  Then,  there  was  the  little  hut  where  he  had 
been  fondled  in  the  lap  of  poverty  and  starvation.  Even  this 
had  a  charm  for  him  ;  for  he  recalled  his  early  trainings  in  truth 
and  integrity,  which  he  trusted  would  abide  with  him  through 
all  the  days  of  his  weary  life.  But,  as  he  gazed  upon  the  half- 
demolished  rustic  seat  beneath  the  huge  willow,  although  he 
strove  to  be  calm,  his  whole  frame  shook  with  the  most  violent 
agitation;  for  he  remembered  the  ghastly  paleness  of  one  whom 
death  had  already  claimed  for  its  victim,  and  the  last  words  ever 
uttered  by  his  dying  mother ;  for  here  it  was  that  she  had  told 
him  for  the  first  time  that  she  must  leave  him,  and  warned  him 
with  her  latest  breath  against  the  vices  to  which  his  father  had 
fallen  a  victim — drunkenness  and  debauchery.  It  was  here  that 
she  knelt  in  the  lovely  summer  evening,  and  asked  God  to 
bless  the  poor  boy,  so  soon  to  be  an  orphan — so  soon  to  be 
thrown  out  upon  the  charities  of  the  cold  and  heartless  world, 
— so  soon  to  be  bereft  of  the  last  earthly  friend  that  he  pos- 
sessed ;  to  be  a  father  to  the  fatherless ;  to  take  him  beneath 
the  shadow  of  his  loving  wing ;  keep  him  from  all  the  evils  that 
surrounded  his  life  ;  from  yielding  to  the  temptations  that  might 
come  to  him  in  this  world,  and  at  last  receive  him  into  Heaven. 
But  on,  on,  Sped  the  cars,  and  woodland,  river,  fields  and 
flowers  were  far  in  the  distance, — a  vapory  mist  flitted  before 
his  eyes ;  his  head  was  dizzy,  and,  had  he  undertaken  to  arise 
from  his  seat,  he  would  have  staggered  and  fallen.  He  picked 
up  a  book  and  tried  to  read.  It  was  Macaulay's  entertaining 
History  of  England  ;  but  he  failed  to  interest  himself.  He  then 


252  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

took  from  his  valise  a  volume  of  poems — the  same  that  he  and 
Blanche  had  perused  together  so  often  ;  there  were  the  passages, 
marked  with  her  own  hand  ;  but  these  too,  had  lost  their  charm, 
only  as  he  recalled  the  dear  hand  that  had  turned  over  the 
pages,  the  voice  that  had  read  to  him  so  many  of  those  beau- 
tiful lines  from  his  favorite  author — Thomas  Moore,  those  eyes 
that  had  so  often  melted  to  bewitching  softness,  and  even  tears 
at  the  recital  of  different  parts  of  this  elegant  work — "  Lalla 
Rookh,"  "Paradise  and  the  Peri,"  and  other  parts  equally  as 
charming ;  and  so  this  was  put  aside.  And  then  laying  his 
weary  head  upon  his  hands,  he  tried  so  hard  to  come  to  a  forget- 
fulness  of  all  the  past ;  to  believe  that  the  future  would  yet 
smile  propitiously,  and  that  time  would  heal  his  wounded  and 
crushed  spirit. 

He  arrived  in  New  York  the  next  morning,  and,  as  the 
steamer  "Atlantic"  was  about  to  be  launched,  took  passage 
immediately.  The  day  was  fine.  It  was  his  first  experience 
with  the  wind  and  the  wave  of  the  broad  ocean,  and,  as  the 
white-capped  surges  lashed  the  shore,  and  the  ship,  like  a  thing 
of  life,  commenced  plowing  the  vasty  deep,  hope,  though  ever 
so  faintly,  whispered  to  his  soul  ;  for  some  way  they  seemed 
to  him  a  connecting  link  in  the  chain  that  was  to  solve 
the  mysteries  that  had  enveloped  his  parents'  life,  to  clear 
up  the  mists  that  now  hung  over  his  whole  being.  And  he 
was  not  sorry  that  he  started  upon  this  journey,  although  he 
felt  how  hard  it  would  be  for  a  young  man  without  means  to- 
make  his  way  in  a  foreign  clime  unaided  by  friends,  unassisted 
by  the  influence  that  wealth  always  carries  with  it. 

Several  days  had  passed  ;  he  had  made  no  acquaintances,  and 
hardly  spoken  to  any  person ;  he  was  too  bu^y  with  his  own 
thoughts  to  note  what  was  passing  around  him.  Only  one 
gentleman  had  given  him  any  attention,  and  that  was  through 
his  little  daughter  who  had  fancied  him  her  uncle,  and  called 
him  so  ;  and  who  each  day,  so  soon  as  she  was  awake  in  the 
morning,  begged  her  papa  to  let  her  go  and  see  him  :  and  so,. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER. 


253 


the  prattle  of  this  little  child,  her  sunny  smile  and  mirth,  took 
him  out  for  a  time  from  his  deep  melancholy  and  gloom  ;  and 
he  learned  to  love  her  society,  and  look  upon  her  coming  as 
one  might  look  upon  the  sunshine  after  a  terrific  thunderstorm, 
the  flowers  and  the  birds,  the  balmy  breath  jof  the  beautiful 
spring,  after  a  cold  and  cheerless  winter.  One  day  she  had 
strayed  away  from  her  father  and  bent  her  steps  to  the  upper 
deck.  Sammie  saw  her,  but,  being  busy  writing  a  letter  at  the 
time  and  supposing  her  father  close  at  hand,  paid  no  further 
attention  until  he  heard  he  heard  her  cries,  when,  with  lighten- 
ing rapidity,  he  started  off  in  the  direction  of  the  sound  and 
just  in  time  to  see  a  man  hurl  her  over  the  railing  into  the  deep 
below. 

"OGod! — help,  help!"  the  villain  exclaimed.  "I  tried  to 
save  her,  but  was  a  moment  too  late." 

Sammie,  without  waiting  a  moment,  plunged  into  the  foam- 
ing spray.  With  one  strong  arm  he  grasped  the  child,  and 
held  her  head  above  the  water.  By  this  time  her  father  and 
others  had  come  to  the  scene  of  distress.  A  huge  rope  was 
lowered,  and  Sammie  and  she  were  brought  forth  from  what 
might  have  been  a  watery  grave.  He  told  his  story,  which  the 
man  who  did  the  terrible  deed  stoutly  denied.  The  little  girl 
corroborating  this  statement — said,  "  Ze  bid  man  flung  me  into 
ze  water  ;  thed  he's  doin  to  drown  me!  " 

"Yes,  I  see — I  see  it  all;  he  is  my  deadly  enemy.  Several 
times  he  has  tried  to  murder  me,  but  was  foiled  in  his  attempt; 
and  now  he  wreaks  his  vengeance  on  my  innocent  child." 

The  wretch  that  perpetrated  the  deed,  was  placed  in  irons,  to 
be  handed  over  to  the  proper  authorities  so  soon  as  they  should 
arrive  in  port.  Sammie  was  rewarded  with  the  generous  smiles 
of  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  on  shipboard,  to  several  of  whom 
he  was  introduced  by  the  child's  father ;  and  this  was  not  all. 
Mr.  Mayville — for  that  was  his  name — handed  him  a  check  for 
one  thousand  dollars,  payable  to  his  order,  which,  however,  he 
would  not  accept.  It  was  urged  upon  him,  but  to  no  avail. 


254  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

"It  was  simply  an  act  of  humanity  and  love,"  he  said,  "and 
if  I  have  done  a'praiseworthy  deed,  I  am  amply  repaid  in  the 
consciousness  of  saving  a  human  being  from  death,  and  of  doing 
right," — then  to  himself — "As  my  beloved  mother  would  have 
bidden  me,  if  she  could  have  spoken  to  me  that  moment  from 
out  the  blue — through  the  parting  clouds  that  floated  so  grace- 
fully above  our  heads." 

The  ship  sailed  smoothly  on,  and  at  last  cast  anchor  at  Liver- 
pool. There  had  been  no  storms — no  fierce,  savage  hurricanes 
of  wind  to  toss  the  gallant  vessel ;  nor  fires  to  demolish — to  lay 
waste  this  beautiful  structure ;  deaths  none.  The  voyage  had 
been  as  pleasant  as  a  lovely  summer  sky,  with  its  soft  fleecy 
clouds  by  day,  the  never  ending,  never  ceasing  music  of  the 
waves ;  the  silver  moon  and  the  stars  by  night  which  seemed  to 
look  out  from  on  high  as  sentinels  to  assist  the  mariner  on  his 
lonely  way  through  the  trackless  ocean,  and  to  afford  light  and 
comfort  to  the  traveller  upon  the  broad  waste  of  waters. 

In  the  bustle  of  landing  the  past  was  fora  time  forgotten. 
Mr.  Mayville,  however,  did  not  forget  the  great  service  ren- 
dered by  the  young  stranger;  but  shook  him  cordially  by  the 
hand  on  parting,  and  said,  "Young  man,  if  you  ever  need 
assistance  come  to  me.  I  shall  remember  with  tears  of  joy  that 
noble  and  heroic  deed,  which  was  the  salvation  of  my  sweet 
Lilla,  through  my  life  long ;  for,  when  I  look  upon  her  now 
in  the  flush  of  health,  when  I  clasp  her  to  my  heart,  when  I 
stoop  to  receive  her  fond  caresses,  when  I  grow  so  happy  in  her 
sweet  society,  and  when  with  all  my  weight  of  care  the  merry 
notes  of  my  little  bird  shall  fall  upon  my  ears  to  relieve  my 
depressed  spirit,  I  shall  draw  the  contrast  between  this,  and  a 
cheerless,  dreary  life  which  would  have  been  mine,  had  it  not 
been  for  your  prompt  assistance  in  the  hour  of  her  peril. 
Accept  my  blessing,  and  forget  not  if  ever  you  are  in  trouble 
to  give  me  a  call."  He  then  handed  him  one  of  his  business 
cards  and  bade  him  adieu. 

Sammie  went  directly  to  London.     He  then  looked  around 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  255 

for  a  boarding  place.  He  did  not  wish  to  go  to  the  most  fash- 
ionable house,  for  this  he  knew  his  means  would  not  allow ;  and 
yet  he  wished  to  avoid  one  that  was  not  held  in  good  repute. 
At  last  he  found  comfortable  quarters  and  at  a  very  reasonable 
price ;  but  even  here  he  knew  he  could  not  abide  long  unless 
he  was  fortunate  enough  to  procure  business. 

Several  weeks  passed.  He  had  met  promptly  all  his  bills — 
washing,  board,  fuel  and  light;  but  his  money  was  nearly  ex- 
hausted and  what  he  was  to  do  in  the  future  was  unknown  to 
him,  for  he  had  not  been  able  to  obtain  employment  of  any  de- 
scription. He  sat  down  and  commenced  unpacking  his  valise; 
he  hardly  knew  why  he  did  it,  for  he  felt  that  it  would  be  but  a 
day  or  so  longer  that  he  could  remain  where  he  was  ;  and  there 
was  nothing  there  that  if  pawned,  would  bring  him  the  price 
of  a  week's  board;  but  yet,  he  proceeded  to  his  task.  Each 
article  of  clothing  and  each  book  was  laid  upon  the  little 
table  before  him ;  and  when  he  came  to  the  last  one,  as  he 
opened  it  to  peruse  again  those  lines  marked  by  that  loved  one, 
now  in  a  far  off  country,  which  he  had  not  ventured  to  look  at 
since  he  put  it  away  while  traveling  in  the  cars,  resolving  in  his 
own  mind  that  its  pages  should  never  again  be  read  by  him,  a 
paper  fell  out ;  which,  on  looking  at,  he  discovered  to  be  the 
same  check  on  one  of  the  leading  banks  of  the  city,  payable  to 
his  order,  presented  to  him  but  refused  on  shipboard,  and  which 
Mr.  Mayville  must  have  found  a  chance  to  place  inside  the  book 
in  his  little  hand  trunk.  No, — that  was  not  it;  he  remembered 
having  lent  him  the  book  of  poems.  It  must  have  found  its 
way  inside  by  carelessness  or  accident ;  at  all  events  he  would 
not  draw  it;  he  would  beg  or  starve  first;  he  would  seek  the 
owner  and  return  it  to  him.  He  looked  again  at  the  card  pre- 
sented by  the  stranger  at  Liverpool.  His  office  must  be  but  a 
few  squares  away.  He  went  out  on  the  street;  he  passed  on 
and  on  by  the  great  blocks  which  towered  high  above  his  head, 
through  the  motley  throng  that  nearly  blockaded  the  thorough- 


256  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

fare,  when  he  came  to  the  right  street  and  number;  and  with 
palpitating  heart  went  in  and  enquired  for  the  proprietor. 

The  gentleman  addressed  gave  him  a  look  which  said  plainer 
than  words,  "Are  y.ou  not  mistaken,  young  man?"  but  replied 
at  last,  "  Mr.  Mayville  seldom  admits  any  person  into  his  office 
unless  on  the  most  important  business,  which  cannot  be  done 
by  any  of  his  agents.  You  see  he  is  the  proprietor  of  this 
mammoth  silk  establishment,  and  has  no  time  to  spare  in  busi- 
ness hours." 

"But  please  take  this  to  him,"  Sammiesaid,  handing  the  card 
presented  by  Mr.  Mayville,  with  his  own  name  written  on  the 
other  side.  "  He  will  remember.  I  will  detain  him  but  a  mo- 
ment." 

"But  I  have  no  right,  sir;  it  is  against  the  rules;  and  I 
should  be  reprimanded  if  I  did — perhaps  lose  my  situation." 

At  that  moment  Mr.  Mayville  entered.  He  had  not  been  at 
the  office  this  morning ;  had  been  detained  for  some  time  at  his 
home.  He  knew  Sammie,  and,  grasping  his  hand,  shook  it 
cordially ;  then  invited  him  to  a  seat  in  a  room  fitted  up  luxu- 
riously for  his  own  especial  benefit.  He  saw  he  looked  sorrow- 
ful, and  thought  he  had  something  to  communicate,  and  hesi- 
tated to  speak;  so  he  said,  "Can  I  do  anything  for  you?" 
Sammie  handed  him  the  check  over  which  he  had  worried  so 
much,  and  told  his  story. 

"  It  is  yours :  I  will  see  that  it  is  cashed." 

Sammie  felt  all  the  pride  of  his  mother's  family  arise  in  his 
bosom,  and  said,  "I  did  not  come,  Mr.  Mayville,  to  ask  alms 
at  your  kind  and  generous  hand,  nor  can  I  accept  it ;  but  to  see 
if  you  had  not  a  situation  to  give  me,  or  something  that  I  could 
do.  I  am  willing  to  take  any  position,  and  think  I  can  please 
you." 

"True,  true,  sir.  Are  you  a  good  accountant?  I  need 
another  book-keeper  in  place  of  the  faithful  man  who  died  in 
my  absence.  You  shall  take  his  place." 

Sammie's  heart  bounded  for  joy  as  he  heard  these  words ; 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  257 

and,  after  thanking  his  kind  friend,  he  went  to  his  boarding 
place  with  a  much  lighter  step  than  when  he  passed  out  a  few 
hours  previous,  thinking  how  hard  he  would  try  to  please  his 
employer,  who  must  be  a  strange  sort  of  a  man  to  allow  a  per- 
son without  recommendations  or  friends  in  his  establishment. 
But  Mr.  Mayville,  an  over  cautious  man,  did  not  think  so,  for 
he  reasoned  after  this  manner :  that  a  man  must  be  honorable, 
indeed,  to  do  as  Mr.  Wilmington  had  done ;  and  liked  the 
noble  dignity  of  him  who  was  willing  to  do  anything  that  was 
honorable,  so  that  he  might  gain  a  competency  for  himself  and 
be  independent  of  his  friends.  So,  next  morning,  Sammie 
might  have  been  seen  at  the  hour  appointed,  at  the  grand  es- 
tablishment of  Mayville  &  Co.,  awaiting  their  orders. 


258  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

But  we  will  retrace  our  steps  over  the  trackless  desert  of 
waters — the  broad  Atlantic — and  go  to  the  little  chamber  where 
Blanche  was  made  prisoner  by  her  father. 

She  dreamed  that  night  that  Sammie  came  to  the  door  of 
their  house  with  a  basket  of  flowers  ;  he  was  in  the  act  of  giving 
them  to  her,  when  a  huge  serpent  came  forth  from  those  beau- 
tiful blossoms  and  coiled  its  slimy  length  about  her.  Sammie 
sprang  for  a  club  to  kill  the  venomous  reptile,  but  before  he 
reached  her  it  had  fastened  its  fangs  in  her  flesh.  She  screamed 
with  terror.  The  sound  of  her  own  bitter  wailings  awoke  her, 
and  she  sprang  from  her  bed  in  a  perfect  paroxysm  of  fear. 
Being  naturally  of  a  superstitious  frame  of  mind,  it  made  a  deep 
impression  upon  her,  and  she  trembled  as  she  thought  of  the 
chances  of  being  torn  from  her  idol,  and  she  feared  that  they 
would  yet  be  separated  for  all  coming  time.  As  soon  as  it  was 
light,  she  dressed  and  started  to  go  down  stairs,  but  found  her 
door  locked.  She  wondered  what  it  could  mean,  but  said  noth- 
ing, thinking  after  a  time  some  person  would  come  up  and  then 
she  would  know  all.  Several  hours  passed  ;  she  heard  foot- 
steps upon  the  stairway,  then  a  key  turn  in  the  door.  Soon 
her  father  stood  before  her.  She  saw  he  was  angry,  and  her 
instinct  told  her  it  was  about  Sammie  ;  that  it  was  for  no  other 
purpose  that  he  had  come  but  to  reprimand  her  and  to  heap 
anathemas  upon  her  lover.  But,  assuming  cheerfulness  and 
pretending  not  to  notice  his  appearance,  and  remembering,  too, 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  259 

the  text  of  the  worthy  parson  of  the  Sabbath  previous,  "A  soft 
answer  turneth  away  wrath,"  she  smilingly  said,  "Up  early, 
papa;  how  is  that  ?" 

' '  Never  slept  a  wink  last  night.  No  wonder  ;  if  ever  a  man 
has  trouble  it  is  I.  Such  a  family  !  Such  children  !  " 

' '  What  now  ?  " 

"Enough — was  waylaid  and  robbed  of  several  hundred  dol- 
lars— knocked  down  and  money  taken  from  my  pocketbook 
while  I  lay  insensible  on  the  hard  pavement." 

"What!  what!"  exclaimed  Blanche  in  astonishment. 

' '  True !  true !  "  said  he,  ' '  and  by  your  lover — your  devil !  but 
the  officers  of  justice  are  on  his  track,  and  another  day  will  find 
him  lodged  in  our  county  jail  to  await  trial  for  his  misde- 
meanors." 

"Oh  !  oh  !  "  cried  Blanche,  "  it  is  not  so  !  it  cannot  be  !  "  and 
reeling  fell  upon  the  floor  at  the  feet  of  her  father. 

But  even  her  agony  did  not  draw  him  aside  from  his  purpose, 
and  he  had  not  so  much  as  a  single  misgiving  that  he  had  gone 
forth  even  at  a  late  hour  of  the  night  and  secured  the  services 
of  a  rascal,  as  deeply  dyed  in  sin  and  vice  as  himself,  to  forge 
the  letter  that  drove  Sammie  to  a  foreign  country — a  pretended 
missive  from  his  affianced. 

After  Blanche  had  recovered,  she  said,  "Do  you  mean  to  say 
papa,  that  you  have  sent  a  sheriff  for  Sammie,  and  that  you  in- 
tend to  send  him  to  prison  ?  " 

« <  I  do — that  is  where  he  belongs.  He  is  not  fit  for  a  civilized 
community." 

"  He  is  not  guilty." 

' '  What !  do  I  lie  ?  Is  that  what  you  mean  ?  I  have  ample 
proof — but  see  here :  I  will  release  him  if  he  will  leave  the 
town,  and  if  you  will  swear  in  this  little  book,  you  never  will 
speak  to  him  again." 

"  What !  take  an  oath,  and  never  speak  to  Sammie  again  ?  I'd 
beg,  I'd  die  first !"  Her  father's  hot  blood  had  gained  the  as- 
cendancy in  her  veins :  she  knew  he  had  uttered  falsehood ;  for 


26O  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

she  had  stood  at  a  distance,  and,  although  unperceived  by 
either  party,  been  an  eye  witness  to  [the  drama  of  the  evening 
previous;  and  she  would  confront  the  world  for  Sammie,  if  the 
gallows  were  raised  in  the  distance  to  hang  her. 

"It's  untrue — it's  basely  false;  and  I  will  testify,  when  the 
time  comes  for  me  so  to  do,  to  its  fabrication  !  " 

"  Against  your  father?" 

"Against  injustice  and  a  dishonorable  lie." 

She  was  now  disarmed  of  all  fear  of  him — him  whose  very 
voice  had  caused  her  oftentimes  to  tremble ;  and  could  Sammie 
have  seen  her  now  in  her  anger  defending  him,  he  would  have 
looked  upon  her  as  one  might  look  upon  a  beautiful  clinging 
vine,  transformed  suddenly  by  the  tempest,  into  a  towering  oak 
capable  of  withstanding  the  lightning's  dart  and  the  savage 
hurricanes. 

"Then  you  propose  to  assist  the  rascal?" 

"Were  that  forlorn  pauper  that  asked  a  crust  of  bread  but 
yesterday  falsely  accused,  and  I  knew  it,  I  would  bear  testimony 
for  him  against  the  world,  if  necessary.  I  do  intend  to  aid  him 
to  the  extent  of  my  ability;  furthermore,  there  were  several 
beside  myself  in  the  park  who  know  all." 

"And  who?" 

"I  am  not  at  liberty  to  tell;  time  enough  when  they  are 
obliged  to  speak." 

Mr.  Clayton  changed  his  tactics;  he  said,  "You  remember 
that  elegant  watch  and  chain  that  you  admired  so  much?" 

"Very  well?" 

"  I  will  send  for  it  to-morrow,  if  you  will  make  me  one  prom- 
ise." 

"What  is  it?" 

"That  you  will  marry  Rowland  Gray.  He  has  been  looking 
at  some  lovely  diamonds ;  intends  to  give  you  a  set  estimated 
at  several  thousand  as  your  bridal  gift.  You  are  to  go  directly 
to  Paris  as  soon  as  you  are  married,  where  he  has  some  business 
to  attend  to,  make  the  tour  of  Europe,  and  then  return  to  settle 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  26l 

down  in  his  elegant  country  residence  but  a  few  miles  from 
Philadelphia.  He  is  worth  at  least  three  millions." 

' '  Is  just  thrice  my  age. " 

"That  is  nothing." 

"But  I  don't  love  him." 

' '  But  you  cannot  help  it  when  you  see  how  lavish  he  is  with 
his  money  to  make  you  happy.  Please  me  now,  dear  Blanche, 
I  will  make  my  will  before  the  sun  goes  down ;  a  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars  shall  be  yours,  and  no  person  on  earth  will  wrest 
it  from  you." 

"  I  cannot  make  the  sacrifice." 

"You  will  not  do  it?" 

"  Never  !  never  !  Not  if  it  were  in  his  power  to  bequeath 
the  famous  necklace  of  diamonds  presented  to  the  daughter  of 
one  of  our  great  generals  by  an  Egyptian  prince — not  if  you 
gave  me  all  you  are  worth,  which  is  no  small  amount,  I  know. 
Sell  myself  for  gold  ?  O,  papa  !  for  the  love  of  mercy  never 
present  the  subject  to  me  again,  for  it  will  do  you  no  good." 

"You  will  rue  it — now  mark  me.  I  can  make  your  life  a 
hard  one." 

"  I  never  yet  have  lain  upon  a  bed  of  roses." 

' '  But  you  may  toss  upon  one  of  thorns. " 

"  So  be  it.     I  will  have  an  easy  conscience,  if  a  hard  lot." 

"You  are  ungrateful — ungrateful !  " 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  be  either." 

"  You  are  a  very  tigress;  but  I  can  and  will  tame  you — now 
see !  I'll  show  you  ! "  and  he  went  out  and  locked  the  door 
after  him. 

Blanche  sat  mute  and  motionless,  her  purposes  unchanged, 
her  mind  set ;  and  as  soon  move  the  everlasting  hills,  as  to  de- 
coy her  from  the  path  she  had  marked  out.  She  was  not  to  be 
bought,  neither  was  she  to  be  frightened  into  an  acquiescence 
with  her  father's  pfens.  He  might  perform  all  his  threats,  drive 
her  from  home,  disown  her;  but  marry  Rowland  Gray  she. 
never  would. 


262  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

Mr.  Tattum  sat  in  the  corner  smoking  his  meerschaum ;  his 
wife  was  at  the  table  supping  her  tea. 

"  I  say,  Mary  Ann,"  said  he,  "  hev  you  heerd  the  news?" 

"  What  news?" 

"  'Bout  old  Clayton  and  Sammie  Wilmington." 

"What  about  it?" 

"Why,  Clayton  kicked  up  a  big  row  with  him,  pertended 
he'd  stole  a  heap  o'  money  from  him,  (mebbe  he  did,  for  all  I 
know),  and  he's  run  away,  or  so  they  say;  but  I  s'pose  the  sum 
o'  the  matter  is,  that  he's  done  this  on  purpose  to  make  a  fuss 
between  him  and  Blanche." 

"Whom  all  but  Walter  Clayton  have  known  fora  long  time 
were  engaged  to  be  married,"  said  Minnie,  looking  up  from  her 
embroidery.  "  I  am  so  sorry  for  Blanche,  for  she  feels  so  badly. " 

' '  Yes,  yes,  they  have  had  a  terrible  fuss  all  around,  I  hear ; 
but  I  don't  care,  I'm  glad  enough  to  have  something  come  to 
that  girl  to  bring  her  down  a  peg  or  two.  Why !  they  say  her 
father  has  her  locked  up  for  two  or  three  days,  and  fed  her  on 
bread  and  water  only." 

"  Poor,  dear  child!  "  said  Mrs.  Glenn  ;  "I  can  hardly  believe 
he  would  do  such  a  thing,  and  she  an  only  daughter." 

"Do!  do  such  a  thing?  Yes  he  would,  an'  a  heap  wuss," 
Hezekiah  answered.  • 

"Served  her  right !  " 

"Oh,  how  can  you  say  so,  mother?  she  is  such  a  sweet,  good 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  263 

girl ;  and  I  consider  it  a  great  misfortune  for  her  to  have  such  a 
father." 

1 '  Bad  enough  for  any  one  but  her.  But  the  little  upstart  car- 
ries her  head  a  little  too  high  to  suit  me — and  then,  is  so  impu- 
dent." 

"I  never  thought  so." 

' '  See  how  she  used  me  after  my  accident." 

"What!"  said  Minnie,  "have  you  had  a*n  accident?  I  did 
not  know  it." 

"Why,  when  I  slid  into  the  ditch  over  there." 

"You  mean  when  you  broke  the  ice  to  receive  your  second 
baptism  after  you  had  that  spell  of  sickness  in  church  that  time?" 
Minnie  replied,  her  eyes  brimful  of  merriment,  while  she 
looked  more  steadily  at  her  work  and  plied  her  needle  the  faster. 
"  What  did  Blanche  Clayton  do?" 

"You  vixen !  you  are  as  bad  as  she  any  time." 

"  But  what  did  she  do?  tell  us  now." 

"  Why,  she  had  the  impudence  to  say,  '  Mrs.  Tattum,  did  you 
hurt  you  much,  falling  into  that  water  ?'  and  then  looked  over 
at  the  girls  with  her,  and  grinned,  and  then  they  all  ran  oft 
laughing." 

"And  you  ran  after  them." 

"I'll  bet ;  and  if  I'd  caught  them,  I'd  sauced  them,  you  may 
be  sure.  I'd,  I'd  knocked  them  flat  into  a  mud  hole !  " 

' '  But  you  got  the  worst  of  it  and  fell  down  :  and  one  of  the 
party  hallooed  back,  'Come  here,  Sister  Tattum,  and  I'll  pick 
you  up  ; '  but  remember  she  was  only  about  nine  years  old  at 
that  time,  and  children  must  be  children." 

"Hard  set,  all  on  'em — hull  family  of  Claytons;  don't  want 
to  tread  on  any  o'  their  toes,  I  tell  you,  now  then,"  said 
Hezekiah ;  "but  you  ain't  heard  the  wust  yet." 

"  Well,  what  can  be  any  worse,  father  dear  ?" 

"  Why,  them  are  two  boys  run  after  me  one  day  in  the  street, 
as  hard  as  they  could,  and  ses,  '  Mr.  Tattum,  halloo,  Mr.  Tat- 
tum ;'  and  I  turns  'round  and,  ses  I,  'Wot,  boys?'  thought 


264  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

mebbe  their  father  wanted  me  for  somethin'  or  uther,  and  they 
commenced  to  sneeker  like ;  and  I  ses  again,  but  purty  sharp 
this  time,  'What  do  you  want?'  'Why,'  ses  Charlie,  'I 
wanted  to  ax  you  if  your  dog  got  his  tail  hurted  a  good  deal, 
when  Sister  Tattum  tramped  on  it,'  and,  'I  wouldn't  let  my  dog 
go  to  meetin'  again,  if  I  was  you.  Do  yer  want  to  sell  him? 
How  much  will  you  take?'  'Why,  yes,'  ses  I,  '  of  course. 
Do  you  want  to  bfty?'  And  he  ses  'No,  sir,  I  don't;  but  I 
heerd  father  say  tother  day  after  he'd  come  home  from  meetin', 
that  that  preacher  ought  to  have  Sister  Tattum  and  her  dog  for 
a  congregation  to  keep  the  rest  awake ;  and  he  believed  he'd 
buy  it  for  him.  How  much  do  you  ax  ? '  ' 

Minnie  laughed  till  her  head  ached,  while  Mrs.  Tattum  called 
them  all  sorts  of  names,  interspersing  her  language,  now  and 
then,  with  an  oath. 

" But  do  not  be  so  angry,  mother  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Glenn, 
"for  you  know  they  were  little  children  at  that  time;  but  now 
are  perfect  gentlemen." 

"  I  dare  say,  perfect  little  d Is  ;  I  hate  the  whole  posse  !  " 

"You  do?  Mrs.  Clayton,  and  all?" 

"She's  the  best  of  the  clique,  but  she's  not  a  Clayton." 

"  And  grandmamma  Clayton  ?  " 

"She's  an  old  vixen — the  worst  of  any  of  them." 

"If  she'd  come  here  in  just  a  minnit,  you'd  eat  her  up,"  said 
Hezekiah,  dryly;  "I  hate  so  much  desate.  Here  now,  you 
b'long  to  the  church  over  there,  and  you  do  heeps  of  things  wot 
I  couldn't." 

"What  do  I  do  that  you  could  not?" 

"Well,  you  speak  bigger  words  sometimes  than  I  dast." 

"What  words,  you  old  fool?" 

"  Duz  that  become  a  church  member  to  call  their  husband  a 
fool?" 

"Yes,  if  he  is  one." 

"I'm  a  mighty  notion  to  tell  the  preacher  on  you — he'd 
excommunicate  you  ;  and  if  I  do,  I'll  tell  as  how  you  did  take 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  265 

them  are  things  from  Clayton's  hired  girl,  which  was  just  as 
wuss  as  stealin',  any  time." 

"  If  I  did,  you  were  glad  to  help  eat  them." 

"I  don't  go  to  meetin'  every  Sunday  and  make  b'leve  I'm  a 
saint,  and  then  when  the  pasture  comes,  put  a  long,  solemn  face 
on ;  and  when  he  axes  me  how  I'm  gittin'  along  in  religion,  tell 
him  I'm  strivin'  to  serve  the  Lord  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  ax 
him  to  pray  with  us  afore  he  leaves ;  and  when  he  aint  more'n 
out  of  sight,  git  mad  and  call  the  hull  on  you  such  awful  names, 
and  boss  everything  around.  No,  sir,  that  aint  me — Hezekier 
Tattum.  I'm  plain  and  outspoken,  don't  tell  lize 'bout  nothin', 
let  my  neighbors  alone ;  mind  my  own  business ;  don't  go  inter 
a  church  and  swear  to  somethin'  I  know  aint  so  'bout  the  breth- 
ren and  sisterns;  don't  bother  myself 'tall  'bout  their  meeting; 
and  I'll  not  git  half  so  hot  a  corner,  when  I  die,  as  you  will,  now 
Mary  Ann.  Why,  you've  b'longed  fifty  years,  ain't  you?  and 
what  good  has  it  done  you  ?  No  more  good  than  for  you  to  keep 
me  up  the  most  of  the  night  when  the  gals  used  to  have  boze — 
you  killed  'em  all  by  kindness.  Oh,  I  remember,  and  shall  till  my 
latest  breath,  how  one  cold,  raw  night  the  wind  was  howlin'  in 
the  tree  tops  like  so  many  wildcats  let  loose ;  the  snows  come 
down  as  thick  and  fast  as  though  you'd  been  shakin  out  your 
feather  bed,  when  a  knock  was  heerd  at  the  front  door  which 
proved  to  be  Adolphus  Jordon — wisht  he'd  been  t'other  side  uv 
Jordan,  the  way  it  turned  out." 

"Oh!  speak  out,  most  worthy — what  next?" 

"  Why,  it  waz  when  one  uv  Minnie's  boze  wuz  here  and  he 
wuz  goin  to  set  up  with  her,  for  he  come  regular  three  times  a 
week.  Well,  what  did  you  have  me  do  but  kindle  fires  in  the 
parlor;  then  say  I  must  set  up  to  see  to  the  fires  (wished  it  had 
singed  him  the  way  it  turned  out),  and  the  feller  didn't  go  home 
till  four  o'clock  in  the  mornin' !  It  was  fust,  Hezekier  split  a 
leetle  more  wood,  (I  b'leve  the  rascal  tried  to  see  how  much  he 
could  burn),  then,  go  crack  'em  butternuts ;  then,  pop  some 
17 


266  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

corn,  while  you  blistered  your  face  over  the  fire  making  molas- 
sus  candy  for 'em.  But  this  didn't  satisfy  you,  you  had  to  send 
me  out  in  the  blusterin  winds  and  storms  to  git  peanuts,  and 
then  insisted  for  me  to  crack  'em.  Well,  just  to  please  you,  I 
cracked  the  pesky  things,  and  then  you  wanted  me  to  take  'em 
in  and  pass  'em  'round,  instead  uv  lettin  the  gal  come  out  and 
git  'em.  So  this  I  dun  to  please  you,  and  by  that  time  the  fires 
had  purty  much  gone  out ;  and  then  I  hed  to  jest  button  up 
that  old  army  cloak  'round  me  and  sally  out  agin  after  wood  ; 
and  he  never  cum  agin.  I  tell  you,  Mary  Ann,  a  man's  a  man  ; 
you  don't  want  'em  to  know  that  you  are  in  a  kinder  uv 
hurry  to  gid  rid  uv  your  gals ;  you  don't  want  to  feed  'em  on 
nicknacks  ;  you  don't  want  to  flatter  'em  up  much  ;  you  don't 
want  to  let  'em  know  that  all  they  want  to  do  is  to  ask,  for  then 
you'll  be  sure  not  to  marry  off  your  darters  ;  for  then  they'll 
think  there's  somethin'  wrong — they'll  git  sick  and  disgusted 
like.  I'll  tell  you  it's  about  like  as  if  you  had  a  big  melon 
patch ;  well,  if  they  are  nice,  and  beautiful,  arid  ripe,  and  sweet 
and  good  like,  why,  you  put  a  big  snarling  dog  at  the  gate  and 
enclose  them  in  with  a  high  fence.  Wall,  where  on  arth  did  yer 
ever  see  a  lot  uv  boys  er  men  but  what  would  manage  to  break 
into  it?  Why,  they'd  do  it  if  it^broke  their  necks,  because  they 
think  they  are  good.  But  sposin'  they  didn't  have  no  dogs 
'round  nor  fences,  but  hired  somebody  to  shell  peanuts  .by  the 
peck  to  feed  'em  on.  'Twouldn't  be  no  go  ;  they'd  think  them 
watermelons  wan'tgood  fur  nuthin,  and  they  wouldn't  tech  'em. 
Why,  Mary  Ann,  have  you  lived  to  be  so  old,  and  don't  know 
yit  how  a  man  goes  by  contraries?  " 

"It's  all  so,"  said  Minnie,  coming  in  at  that  moment. 
Mother  has  made  me  blush  many  a  time  by  being  so  officious. 
Of  course  gentlemen  would  think  she  wanted  to  get  rid  of  her 
daughter  badly." 

"  Always  finding  fault  with  me,  some  of  you ;  I  believe  I'll 
hang  myself." 

"  Shall  I  git  a  rope,  Mary  Ann  ?  " 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  267 

"I  don't  want  to  reprimand  you,"  said  Minnie,  laughing, 
"for  you  are  one  of  the  very  best  of  mothers,  only  you  want 
to  do  too  much  for  us  ;  and  if  I  live  to  be  a  very  old  maid,  it 
will  be  none  of  your  fault,  that  you  did  not  try  your  prettiest  to 
get  me  a  husband — I  never  shall  blame  you.  Come  now,  dry 
your  tears,  and  listen  to  this  letter ;  perhaps  my  name  will  be 
changed  yet." 

"  Whom  is  it  from?" 

' '  That  same  young  gentleman  you  are  speaking  of.  I  guess 
the  nicknacks  won  him,  after  all. 

"  MY  DEAR  MINNIE:  Unavoidable  were  the  circumstances 
that  took  me  from  you  so  unexpectedly,  and  that  have  kept  me 
away  for  the  past  five  years ;  but  every  obstacle  is  now  removed, 
and  if  your  hand  is  still  disengaged,  I  shall  claim  it. 

I  wrote  you  several  letters,  but  received  no  answer.  There 
was  a  deep-laid  plot  to  separate  us  forever.  I  cannot  tell  you 
now,  but  will  explain  all  when  I  see  you.  The  ways  of  Provi- 
dence are  so  mysterious  and  our  lives  are  such  an  enigma. 
Will  be  at  your  home  to-morrow  eve. 

' '  Your  old  friend  and  lover, 

ADOLPHUS  JORDON." 


268  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

"Your  mother  is  quite  sick,"  said  the  elder  Mr.  Clayton, 
addressing  his  son  Walter.  "We  think  consumption  already 
seated.  If  so,  there  can  be  no  reason  for  hoping  she  can 
recover.  I  hardly  know  what  we  are  to  do,  she  is  so  irritable  ; 
her  sickness  has  shattered  her  nerves  wonderfully — is  not  the 
same  woman  that  she  was." 

This  conversation  was  held  at  the  residence  of  Walter  Clay- 
ton, where  Mrs.  Tattum  had  repaired  an  hour  previous,  to  relate 
some  little  scandal  she  had  'heard,  and  to  obtain  the  loan  of 
some  groceries  until  she  could  find  the  time  to  dress  to  go  for 
them. 

"  Ought  to  be  sick,"  she  muttered.  "  I  ain't  sorry  for  her, 
and  nobody  would  care  much  if  she  should  die ;  "  and  then  she 
looked  at  Elice,  thinking  her  words  would  have  a  full  echo  in 
her  thoughts  and  feelings,  but  instead,  Mrs.  Clayton  replied : 
"Whatever  people's  follies  or  faults  may  have  been,  I  sympa- 
thize with  them  in  affliction." 

"  I  could  see  some  people  hung  !  " 

"  Forgive  as  ye  would  be  forgiven.  Do  unto  others  even  as 
ye  would  that  others  should  do  unto  you." 

"That's  all  well  enough  to  talk,  but  who  practices  it?  Do 
as  you  are  done  by — that's  my  silver  rule.  I  hate  that  woman." 

"Not  a  week  since  I  saw  you  shake  her  cordially  by  the 
hand  and  invite  her  to  your  house." 

"But  that  was  for  a  purpose.     I  wanted  to  find  out  some- 


THE  TRIALS  OF   A  STEPMOTHER.  269 

thing.  Funny  you  should  advocate  her  cause  when  she's 
always  been  your  worst  enemy.  You'd  stand  ten  to  one  in 
the  estimation  of  people,  if  it  had  not  been  for  her.  Why, 
maybe  you  are  not  aware  how  she  has  been  around  from  house 
to  house  slandering  you." 

"I  know  everything,  I  believe,  or  should  by  this  time.  I 
have  learned  to  my  sorrow  of  more  than  one  Judas  Iscariot; 
have  been  a  recipient  of  their  kisses  and  smiles,  as  well  as  their 
murderous  attacks  upon  my  good  name,  which  trfey  vainly 
thought  were  of  so  secret  a  character  that  I  would  never  feel  the 
sting,  or  know  the  author  of  this  mischief.  But  ah  !  how  much 
will  they  have  to  account  for  in  the  great  day  when  God  himself 
shall  arraign  them  for  this  sin,  before  His  tribunal,  and  they 
will  have  to  answer  to  Him,  when  He  shall  judge  the  world  in 
righteousness.  Let  me  be  oppressed  if  it  must  be,  sinned 
against;  if  I  only  preserve  a  stainless  soul  If  I  am  injured  by 
the  designing,  they  will  get  their  punishment  in  the  next  world, 
if  not  in  this.  But  sometimes  we  reap  the  reward  of  our  fol 
lies  in  this  life." 

"You  are  a  saint,"  she  answered  ironically.  "Don't  you 
never  feel  like  pounding  somebody  when  .they  say  something 
awful  mean  and  provoking?  I  do.  Why  that  old  woman  has 
said  some  very  hateful  things  about  you." 

Elice  did  not  reply,  but  passed  out  of  her  room  into  the  front 
hall  where  her  husband  and  father-in-law  were  still  holding  con- 
versation, the  hand  of  the  latter  on  the  knob  of  the  door  as  if 
ready  for  departure.  She  enquired  very  kindly  in  reference  to 
the  health  of  her  mother-in-law,  and  asked  if  she  could  not  do 
something  for  her. 

"  If  she  could  only  have  some  person  to  sit  by  her  bedside 
through  the  day  and  give  her  medicine,  it  would  be  a  great  re- 
lief to  me ;  I  am  weary  of  watching  nights.  I  don't  believe  she 
will  last  long." 

The  great  heart  of  Elice  was  bursting  with  sympathy  as  she 
saw  how  haggard  the  old  man  looked ;  and  she  cast  her  eyes 


2/O  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

imploringly  at  Walter,  and  said,  "  Can't   I   be   spared  to  assist 
them,  papa?" 

"  You  are  not  strong  enough,"  the  old  man  replied;  and  then 
he  thought,  too,  of  all  the  unkind  remarks  his  wife  had  made, 
and  feared  it  would  place  Elice  in  a  disagreeable  position ;  and, 
as  she  had  not  buried  her  weapons  of  warfare  so  thoroughly 
but  that  she  sometimes  at  the  present  said  hateful  things  con- 
cerning her,  he  felt  that  he  would  not  like  to  subject  her  to  the 
pain  she  even  now  might  inflict  in  some  of  her  moody  states. 

Elice  seemed  to  divine  his  thoughts.  "Father,"  she  said, 
looking  up  into  his  tearful  eyes.  ' '  I  think  when  she  sees  what 
good  care  I  take  of  her,  she  will  drop  her  prejudices — perhaps 
love  me  a  little." 

"You  never  gave  her  any  reason  to  do  otherwise.  I  won- 
der, oh!  I  wonder  she  has  taken  the  course  she  has." 

"Please,  father,  don't  speak  of  it;  let  by-bones  be  by-gones  ; 
soon  all  will  be  buried  with  the  lifeless  form  beneath  the  clods 
of  the  valley.  It  will  be  my  greatest  pleasure  to  smooth  her 
pathway  thither.  Do  not  deny  me,  for  I  request  it ;  and  oh  ! 
if  she  changes  her  mind  in  that  brief  lapse  of  time,  I  shall  be 
thrice  blessed." 

The  old  man's  feelings  at  last  overcame  him,  and,  bowing  his 
head  and  leaning  more  heavily  upon  his  cane,  tears  fell  even  to 
his  feet,  while  he  could  only  gasp,  "You  are  good — too  good; 
oh !  how  could  one  expect  this  of  you,  you  poor  downtrodden, 
sorrowful  child,  abused  and  oppressed.  But  God  will  reward 
you:" 

"That  is  all  I  want,"  said  Elice,  and  put  her  arms  around  his 
neck  and  kissed  him,  just  as  she  would  her  own  dear  father,  and 
bade  him  cheer  up,  assuring  him  that  it  made  not  the  slightest 
difference  what  had  been  said  in  the  past ;  that  she  should  only 
look  to  the  comfort  of  his  poor  sick  wife,  if  she  would  permit 
her,  and  do  all  in  her  power  to  lessen  her  suffering. 

"Some  one  has  come  to  take  care  of  you,"  the  old  man  said, 
on  entering  the  room  where  his  wife  lay  sick. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  27 1 

"  Who?"  she  feebly  enquired. 

Elice  approached  the  bed  and  extended  her  hand:  "I  will 
stay  with  you  for  a  time,  if  you  desire  it." 

There  was  a  visible  frown  upon  her  countenance ;  but  she 
bowed  assent,  and  then  enquired  for  her  own  daughter. 

' '  She  was  too  busy  to-day ;  was  expecting  company ;  but  says 
she  will  be  up  to-morrow." 

"And  couldn't  leave  to  watch  with  her  sick  mother?" 

"You  must  remember  she  is  worn  out — has  sat  up  night 
and  day." 

' '  Oh,  yes,  'tis  time,  she  is  a  good  child ;  but  I  was  just 
thinking  that  no  person  could  keep  me  from  her,  if  she  was  in 
my  condition." 

Elice  remained  four  weeks;  and  when  that  time  had  elapsed, 
no  one  could  do  anything  to  please  her  half  so  well.  Her 
medicine  must  all  pass  through  her  hands,  her  pillows  be 
adjusted  by  her ;  and  she  alone  could  be  entrusted  to  comb  her 
hair  or  get  her  meals.  One  day  she  looked  unusually  perplexed ; 
she  was  evidently  growing  each  hour  more  and  more  feeble, 
and  felt  that  she  soon  must  die ;  and  there  seemed  a  great 
weight  upon  her  mind.  Elice  was  bending  over  her,  bathing 
her  temples  and  stroking  back  the  gray  tresses  that  now  and 
then  fell  over  her  pale,  thin  face  ;  when  she  drew  her  down  and 
kissed  her,  murmuring,  "Oh!  my  good  angel,  after  all — all. 
How  kind  you  are  to  me,  and  I, — oh  !  I  have  been  so  un- 
worthy— am  so  unworthy  still  of  the  blessings  bestowed  daily 
by  you  dear  hands."  The  hot  tears  fell  in  a  moment  from  the 
eyes  of  Elice  on  the  face  of  her  mother-in-law,  but  she  could 
not  reply. 

' '  Oh  !  can  you — can  you  forgive  me,  before  I  go  hence  ?  I 
know  not  why  I  was  so  persistent  in  my  persecution  of  you, 
for  you  certainly  had  never  wronged  me ;  but  such  evil  influ- 
ences were  all  the  while  at  work  with  my  naturally  perverse  dis- 
position. Mrs.  Tattum — false-hearted,  untrue,  deceptive  to  the 
last — I  listened  too  long  to  her.  She  lived  so  near  you  I 


272  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

thought  she  must  know,  but  I  have  found  her  out.  You  have 
not  told  me  you  forgive  me." 

"I  have  nothing  to  forgive.  If  we  err,  if  we  wrong  a  fellow- 
man,  we  sin  against  the  high  and  holy  God ;  and  it  is  to  Him 
we  should  go  for  absolution.  Calm  yourself,  dear  mother ;  for- 
get all  in  the  past  that  is  painful  to  you." 

"  But  you  must  have  suffered  so  much." 

"Jesus  sustained  me  ;  and  now  He  has  made  all  things  right. 
I  have  prayed  for  this  hour  of  reconciliation,  and  am  happy  be- 
yond measure  that  it  has  come ;  and  if  you  have  at  last  learned 
to  love  me,  if  you  have  found  out  your  mistaken  judgment  in 
reference  to  my  character,  I  am  satisfied." 

"Love  you? — as  much  as  my  poor  feeble  heart  is  capable. 
Now  I  have  confessed  to  you  I  shall  die  easier." 

When  the  sun  had  gone  down,  she  had  passed  to  another 
world.  But  the  last  act  of  her  life  was  to  take  the  hand  of 
Elice  and  put  it  to  her  lips  ;  the  last  name  she  was  heard  to 
whisper  was  hers. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  273 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

Elice,  weary  from  watching  so  long  by  the  bedside  of  her 
mother-in-law,  had  thrown  herself  upon  the  couch  to  rest.  She 
had  overtaxed  her  strength,  and  felt  she  needed  quiet  to  recu- 
perate her  depressed  faculties  of  mind  as  well  as  of  body ;  for, 
in  the  past  four  weeks  of  solicitude  and  toil,  a  marked  change 
had  come  over  her,  and  she  feared  the  utter  prostration  that 
might  follow  unless  she  took  the  greatest  care  of  herself. 

She  had  a  servant  in  every  way  trustworthy,  and  thought  she 
would  give  the  whole  care  of  the  house  into  her  hands  until 
she  regained  her  strength. 

It  is  a  cold  December  day ;  the  winds  are  howling  without, 
.and  the  snow  beating  wildly  against  the  window  panes.  More 
desolate  than  ever  seem  the  bare  branches  of  the  trees,  the 
leafless  shrubbery  and  the  climbing  rose  vines  that  make  such 
a  pretty  shade  over  the  windows  of  her  room  in  the  bright 
summer,  a  spot  so  inviting;  for  death  has  been  in  the  family, 
and,  although  she  has  not  been  beloved  as  she  desired,  she 
missed  the  voice  that  usually  had  spoken  kindly  to  her,  what- 
ever tone  it  might  have  assumed  away  from  her  immediate 
presence;  and  Elice  was  so  glad  when  she  thought  of  her 
mother-in-law  as  laid  away  with  friends  in  the  cemetery,  that 
she  had  been  capable  of  bringing  about  a  change  in  her  feel- 
ings ;  that  she  had  seen  how  erroneous  had  been  her  judg- 
ments, and  not  only  come  to  a  full  reconciliation  and  appreciation, 
but  actually  to  love  her  presence  in  her  sick  room ;  and  she  re- 


2/4  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

turned  thanks  to  the  Father  of  mercies  and  truth  for  this  bless- 
ing, hoping  she  might  yet  be  enabled  to  win  over  all  her 
enemies  ;  for  it  had  been  such  a  bitter  draught  to  her  sensitive 
mind  to  feel  that  she  had  been  misjudged,  while  scarcely  a  per- 
son whom  she  met  took  her  for  what  she  really  was — capable 
of  any  sacrifice  to  add  happiness  to  the  lives  of  her  friends;  and 
foregoing  any  pleasures  if  it  only  helped  fill  the  cup  of  joy  for 
a  loved  one.  But  there  was  this  to  comfort  Elice  : — those  who 
knew  her  best,  loved  her  most ;  and  God,  the  Searcher  of  all 
hearts,  who  could  look  from  His  lofty  throne  into  their  very 
depths,  knew  that  she  .desired  above  all  things  to  lead  a  pure 
and  spotless  life,  and,  knowingly,  would  not  commit  an  offense 
against  a  living  creature  under  the  sun  or  break  any  of  the 
precious  Commandments. 

While  Elice  was  musing,  she  fell  into  a  sleep.  She  dreamed 
her  room  was  filled  with  heavenly  spirits.  One  of  them  bend- 
ing lower  than  the  rest,  whispered  in  her  ears,  ' '  Sorrowful 
daughter  of  earth,  thou  art  yet  doomed  to  still  greater  disap- 
pointments ;  but  Christ  shall  give  His  angels  charge  concerning 
thee.  Goaded  to  the  very  verge  of  despair,  thou  shalt  wish  to 
flee  from  this  sin-stained  earth  ;  but  there  is  yet  work  for  thee, 
beloved  one  ;  put  thy  shoulder  to  the  wheel,  and  Jesus  will  help 
to  bear  thy  burdens.  Wear  meekly  thy  crown  of  thorns,  for 
it  will  turn  to  a  diadem  of  never-fading  flowers.  Thou  shalt 
yet  'tread  upon  the  lion  and  the  adder.'  'Though  thou  pass- 
eth  through  the  furnace,  the  smell  of  fire  shall  not  rest  upon 
thy  garments.'  Thou  hast  seen  affliction;  but  through  this, 
death  shall  be  robbed  of  its  terror ;  the  crown  of  everlasting 
life  glitter  more  radiantly  upon  thy  brow ;  thy  harp  awaken  to 
more  ecstatic  music  in  that  beautiful  land  whither  thou  journey- 
est.  Be  patient ;  be  forbearing  ;  love  thy  enemies  ;  do  good 
unto  them  who  despitefully  use  you  and  persecute  you." 

Ere  it  had  ceased  speaking,  she  was  awakened  by  the  merry 
sound  of  laughter  in  the  rear  of  the  building,  and  then  scuffling. 
She  thought  little  of  this,  as  her  servant  was  given  to  those 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  275 

frolicsome  pastimes  whenever  Robin  and  Charlie,  who  had  now 
grown  to  ages  of  fourteen  and  sixteen,  wished  to  engage  in 
these  athletic  sports.  A  model  servant  in  every  other  respect, 
and  thinking  no  evil  or  rudeness  in  this,  but  proud  of  her  supe- 
riority of  strength,  she  embraced  every  opportunity  of  showing 
them,  with  all  their  boasted  powers,  that  she  was  more  than  a 
match  for  them,  and  if  they  were  able  to  handle  boys,  as  they 
had  often  affirmed,  much  older  and  larger  than  themselves,  they 
had  no  business  in  her  hands  ;  and  in  spite  of  the  remonstrance 
of  the  heads  of  the  family  to  desist  from  these  rude  sports, 
would  seize  the  time  of  their  absence  to  pursue  their  favorite 
amusements.  Accustomed  from  childhood  to  this,  as  strange  as 
it  may  seem,  it  was  a  part  and  parcel  of  her  being,  and  she 
could  no  more  resist  the  temptation  than  the  inebriate  could 
pass  the  grog-shop  with  its  long  rows  of  sparkling  decanters 
without  indulging  his  appetite. 

The  day  had  nearly  passed ;  the  twilight  began  to  throw 
its  dim  shadows  over  the  world.  Nora  (this  was  the  servant's 
name)  had  been  full  of  mirthfulness  and  happiness,  from  early 
morning  until  the  present  hour,  singing  a  portion  of  one  song, 
then  another,  as  she  busied  herself  in  the  kitchen ;  and  at  any 
time,  a  person  might  look  upon  her  as  a  stray  sunbeam,  she 
was  so  cheerful  and  pleasant;  and,  although  she  had  never 
made  an  open  profession  of  religion,  there  was  an  undercurrent 
of  piety  that  permeated  her  life  ;  for  she  talked  much  about 
Christianity,  and  wished  so  many  times  that  she  might  be  a 
faithful  follower  of  our  Lord  and  Master.  She  was  a  girl  of 
more  than  ordinary  intelligence — such  a  person  as  would  claim 
a  degree  of  attention,  no  matter  in  what  station  she  was  found, 
and  one  who  could  never  fail  of  winning  respect ;  in  no  wise 
handsome,  but  honorable,  trusty,  kind  hearted,  and  respectable. 

Elice  felt  that  indeed  she  had  found  a  treasure,  while 
Nora  never  failed  of  setting  forthrher  good  qualities  to  all  her 
friends  and  acquaintances,  often  expressing  herself  after  this 
manner :  "She  is  the  best  woman  I  ever  saw.  I  never  worked 


2/6  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

in  a  family  I  liked  half  so  well ;  have  a  splendid  home  where 
I  shall  remain  as  long  as  I  live,  unless,  perhaps,"  smiling,  "I 
sometime  conclude  to  take  one  of  my  own." 

The  day  of  which  we  have  been  speaking  she  had  been  unu- 
sually cheerful.  It  was  Saturday:  she  had  more  to  do  on  this 
day  than  usual,  but  was  nearly  through,  when,  coming  to 
the  room  of  her  mistress,  she  knocked  at  the  door  which  when 
opened,  she  asked  permission  to  have  a  little  chat,  as  she  had 
something  upon  her  mind  about  which  she  wished  to  seek  ad- 
vice, and  it  was  to  her,  and  her  alone,  she  would  entrust 
the  secrets  of  her  life,  for  she  felt  they  would  be  in  safe 
keeping. 

"Certainly,  Nora,"  the  mistress  answered.  It  was  then 
three  o'clock,  afternoon. 

"Would  it  be  right  to  break  an  engagement  with  a  gentleman 
providing  his  presence  had  become  odious?" 

"  What !  are  you  engaged?  "  Elice  asked. 

"  Not  exactly.  I  have  never  told  Mr.  Brown  I  would  marry 
him  ;  but  I  know  he  expects  me  to." 

"  Not  by  words,  but  by  actions  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  just  it.  I  have  given  him  to  understand  that  I 
would,  and  that  is  what  troubles  me.  I  know  he  loves  me  and 
has  made  many  sacrifices  for  me ;  but  under  it  all,  I  have  dis- 
covered a  very  selfish  nature.  He  is  unkind  to  his  widowed 
mother ;  now  and  then  takes  a  glass  of  whisky.  He  has  many 
faults  :  I  never  could  be  happy  with  him." 

"Then  why  did  you  encourage  him.  It  is  positively  a  sin  to 
come  out  in  false  colors.  The  affections  are  not  to  be  trifled 
with.  It  has  brought  utter  ruin  to  many  a  person  whose  heart 
has  been  bounding  with  the  brightest  hopes  and  expectations. 
Care  and  discretion  should  always  be  exercised.  If  one  cannot 
reciprocate  an  attachment,  she  can  spare  the  pain  of  inflicting  a 
deeper  wound  by  blindly  leading  a  gentleman  on  to  define  his 
position." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  2/7 

"  I  regret  it  all.  I  have  never  intended  to  do  wrong;  but 
must  I  lead  a  life  of  misery  for  this  one  error?" 

"  If  you  wish  to  break  off  further  connection  with  him,  go 
to  him  frankly,  tell  him  the  state  of  your  feelings  ;  that  you 
have  not  meant  to  deceive  him,  and  are  sorry  for  what  you  have 
done.  Do  it  without  ostentation  or  pride.  He  should  feel 
willing  to  give  you  up.  That  is  the  best  you  can  do  under  the 
circumstances." 

"  That  would  be  Christian-like.  Oh  !  you  are  so  good!  how  I 
wish,  like  you,  I  could  ask  the  blessings  of  God  upon  all  my 
undertakings  !  Sometime  I  mean  to  get  religion  and  join  the 
church." 

"  My  dear  child,  religion  is  not  something  to  get,  but  to  do  ; 
and  joining  the  church  never  yet  saved  a  person.  True  '  tis  a 
great  assistance,  and  yet,  we  may  attend  upon  all  its  ordinances 
and  feel  none  of  the  divine  fervor  in  our  hearts.  We  must 
deal  justly,  love  mercy  and  truth,  exercise  charity  toward  all 
men,  and  then  the  wings  of  salvation  will  overspread  us  like  a 
banner ;  without  these,  we  are  as  '  sounding  brass  or  tinkling 
cymbals.'  " 

"  I  see  it  all.  Oh !  won't  you  remember  me  in  your  prayers  at 
the  throne  of  grace,  that  your  dear  Saviour  may  be  my  Saviour, 
and  that  I  may  get  to  Heaven  at  last?  I  have  longed  for  this 
time  to  tell  you  the  true  state  of  my  feelings.  You  have  heard 
me  laugh  and  sing  and  never  imagined,  I  presume,  that  I 
thought  of  the  hereafter ;  but  there  is  not  a  night  passes,  but 
I  kneel  a  my  bedside,  and  ask  God  to  forgive  my  sins  of  the 
day." 

"And  do  you  not  think  He  sometimes  answers  your  peti- 
tion ?" 

"I  know  He  does." 

"  Continue  to  ask  Him,  and  He  will  give  you  the  witness  of 
His  spirit.  He  will  speak  to  you  with  such  a  voice  that  you 
cannot  mistake.  Jesus  stands  ready  to  fold  you  to  His  blessed 
bosom — trust  Him." 


2/8  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

"Oh!  I  will,  I  do,"  she  answered,  and  left  the  room. 

Once  more  in  the  kitchen,  she  hurried  up  the  work.  Seven 
or  eight  pies  were  taken  from  the  oven,  and  put  upon  a  large 
table  until  they  should  cool  sufficiently  to  put  them  away. 

Robin  came  in,  picked  up  a  knife,  and  proceeded  to  help  him- 
self to  a  piece  of  one. 

"Give  me  that  knife,"  she  said. 

"  Not  unless  you  are  the  stronger,  Miss  Nora,"  he  answered 
laughing. 

"  I'll  show  you  that  I  am,"  she  replied  in  the  same  good- 
natured  way  which  always  characterized  her,  and  proceeded  to 
wrest  it  from  him.  Neither  thinking  of  danger,  and  both 
determined  to  win  the  victory,  each  made  the  utmost  effort  to 
succeed.  "I  have  it  now!"  she  would  repeat.  "No,  it's 
mine,"  Robin  would  answer.  Lacking  discretion,  they  wrestled 
for  a  few  moments,  when  she,  being  the  stronger,  threw  him 
upon  the  floor.  Her  weight  was  heavy,  and  she  consequently 
went  with  great  force — sufficient  to  send  the  knife  handle  first 
through  the  wall,  then  into  the  apertures  between  the  laths, 
while  its  sharp  point  made  an  incision  into  the  main  artery  of 
her  neck.  She  uttered  one  cry,  and  said,  "I've  cut  myself,'' 
when  Robin  ran  immediately  to  his  mother's  room. 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  she  enquired. 

"  Nora  has  cut  herself!  " 

They  both  then  hastened  to  the  kitchen,  when,  terrible  to  re- 
late, the  poor  girl  had  succeeded  in  gaining  the  door  where  she 
was  standing,  as  if  to  obtain  the  air,  and  the  blood  flowing 
profusely  from  the  wound. 

"  How  did  you  do  this !  "  Elice  asked. 

"Send  for  a  doctor,  and  be  quick — I'm  fainting!"  washer 
only  reply;  when  Elice,  seeing  she  was  about  to  fall,  clasped 
her  arms  about  her  and  endeavored  to  seat  her  in  a  chair  close 
at  hand  ;  but  it  was  of  no  avail,  she  was  not  strong  enough  to 
effect  her  object ;  and  so  Nora,  after  reeling  and  staggering  for 
a  moment  or  so,  came  down  heavily  upon  the  floor.  She  ral- 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  2/9 

lied,  however,  and  got  upon  her  knees.     She  had  not  then  lost 
all  consciousness.     Still  she  could  not  speak. 

Elice,  feeling  that  she  could  do  nothing  for  her,  hastened  for 
assistance.  A  man  was  passing  and  she  called  him  in. 
Another  one,  hearing  the  cry  of  distress,  offered  his  services. 
"  Poor,  dear,  suffering  girl !"  Elice  murmured;  "carry  her  to 
bed."  They  laid  her  upon  the  bed.  By  this  time,  Robin  en- 
tered with  the  doctor.  He  had  mounted  a  .horse  at  the  first 
thought  of  danger,  and  hurried  for  a  physician,  who  pro- 
nounced the  wound  fatal  and  said  she  was  dying. 

By  this  time  the  house  was  filled  with  people  talking,  con- 
jecturing, and  wondering  how  the  accident  came  about.  Robin 
told  his  simple,  childish  story,  which  all  there  seemed  to  believe, 
as  he  was  too  young,  if  he  wished,  to  think  of  fabricating  a 
falsehood.  Elice,  covered  with  blood  caused  by  throwing  her 
arms  around  about  the  girl  when  she  strove  to  assist  her,  faint, 
and  sick  at  heart  at  the  sight  of  so  much  distress,  was  laid,  too, 
upon  a  couch  in  her  room.  In  just  twenty  minutes  from  the 
infliction  of  the  wound,  Nora  was  dead. 

In  that  motley  throng,  there  congregated,  the  vicious  were 
mingled.  Then  it  came  into  the  mind  of  the  Evil  One  to  stir 
up  his  subjects  and  set  them  at  his  foul  and  dirty  work.  A 
person  most  fitted  for  the  business,  one  of  the  offscourings  of 
the  town — a  drunken  profligate,  by  reputation — Joe  Gordon  by 
name,  took  this  upon  himself.  "I  will  arouse  suspicion,"  he 
said  mentally,  "against  Robin  Clayton.  His  father  is  im- 
mensely rich  and  will  pay  a  large  sum  to  turn  the  scales  in  his 
favor.  I  am  capable  of  stirring  up  strife ;  anything  but  this 
ceaseless  toil  to  earn  a  livelihood.  I  could  see  any  man, 
woman,  or  child  hang  if  it  would  be  the  means  of  keeping  me 
through  this  cold  winter,  so  I  need  not  be  a  drudge.  Work, 
work,  work,  work — that  is  the  poor  man's  lot — work  or  die." 
"But  have  you  no  conscience,"  a  voice  whispered. 

He  started.  "  It  would  not  be  right;  but  there  are  a  good 
many  things  that  are  wrong  in  this  world.  It  always  was  turned 


28O  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

upside  down  from  the  beginning.  Now,  why  should  old  Clay- 
ton have  all  the  money  and  I  none  ?  Ha  !  ha  !  '  disgorge  !  dis- 
gorge !'  shall  be  my  watchword,  and  he  will  do  it  or  the  blood 
of  some  of  his  family  will  be  spilt.  I  wish  I  could  see  the  halter 
around  his  neck — I'd  place  it  there  myself  if  I  had  a  chance, 
for  a  few  thousand,  and  no  one  would  find  it  out.  Oh !  the 
cursed  law.  If  it  wan't  for  the  law,  I'd  waylay  that  man  and 
rob  him  some  of  these  dark  nights — not  him  particularly,  but 
anybody  that  has  money.  Why  am  I  poor  and  others  rich? 
I  hate  the  rich ;  wish  they  were  all  compelled  to  divide  with 
me — but  that's  not  to  the  point.  How  is  the  thing  to  be  com- 
menced? Of  course  the  public  mind  must  be  soured,  and,  as 
the  scum  is  always  the  first  to  foment,  I'll  set  up  all  my  cronies. 
Am  kind  of  a  king  amongst  the  vile  of  this  town,  and  I  can 
rule  pretty  well  in  my  kingdom.  Drunkards,  thieves,  liars 
compose  it,  but  I  don't  care.  My  brass  buttons  are  my  pass- 
port, policeman  is  my  name ;  but  yet  the  position  does  not  get 
me  a  living.  I  have  to  work — curse  the  work  !  " 

The  room  where  he  was  sitting  was  filled  with  people. 

"I  believe,"  he  whispered,  "that  there  has  been  foul  play; 
that  boy  that  seems  so  innocent  has  murdered  that  girl." 

"Preposterous!  What  do  you  mean,  Joe  Gordon?  "  spoke 
one. 

"P'raps  'tis  so,"  said  one  of  his  fiendish  chums;  "looks  jist 
zactly  as  if  he  might  hav'  dun't — have  him  risted. " 

"Wretch!  what  are  you  talking  about?  that  child  guilty  of  so 
foul  a  crime  !  "  said  a  third. 

"Serve  a  warrant  on  him,  boss,  serve  him  right,"  his  favorite 
replied. 

Soon  he  was  in  the  hands  of  the  law  to  answer  to  the  terrible 
crime  of  murder.  It  was  a  time  never  to  be  forgotten.  Weep- 
ing eyes  were  there,  that  scarcely  ever  shed  a  tear  before,  sor- 
rowing hearts  for  the  early  dead — a  victim  to  her  own  love  of 
amusement ;  an  innocent  child  branded  with  shame,  accused  of 
the  most  terrible  offense  that  could  be  committed — a  young 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  28 1 

boy  that  had  always  from  the  time  that  he  could  speak,  turned 
away  with  an  agonizing  face  at  the  sight  of  distress,  that  was 
never  known  to  take  the  life  of  the  most  humble  creature  in  the 
great  creation  of  the  Almighty  God,  but  guarded  to  the  extent 
of  his  power  all  the  birds'  nests  built  in  the  great  maples  that 
surrounded  his  father's  house  against  that  class  of  urchins  whose 
delight  was  to  rob  them,  sought  out  the  poor  ragged  boys  of 
the  place,  bestowing  upon  them  all  of  his  clothes  that  he  had 
outgrown,  and  buying  many  a  little  luxury  for  a  sick  one  with 
what  money  he  could  earn  in  various  ways. 

"  I  know  not  what  my  children  would  have  done,  had  it  not 
been  for  him  the  past  three  or  four  winters,"  said  a  very  poor 
woman.  "  It  was  none  of  the  very  best  he  gave  them,  but  all 
he  could  spare,  and  it  covered  them  and  kept  them  warm.  I 
verily  believe  they  would  have  frozen  to  death  but  for  his  kind- 
ness ;  and  it's  many  a  time  he  has  brought  some  nick-nack, 
two  or  three  eggs,  or  a  bit  of  cake  for  our  sick  little  Charlie, 
who  would  have  died  for  the  want  of  something  nourishing. 
Poor  little  soul  !  It's  so  cruel  to  think  he  must  be  arraigned 
for  that  dreadful  deed,  when  he's  as  innocent  as  the  angels  in 
Heaven." 

"True!  true!"  answered  a  second,  a  third,  and  a  fourth; 
"he  never  did  it."  One  old  lady,  an  Irish  woman  by  descent, 
sat  in  the  corner  wringing  her  hands  for  some  minutes  and 
weeping  most  bitterly,  then  broke  forth,  at  last,  into  a  bitter 
wail;  and,  going  up  to  this  policeman,  Joe  Gordon,  said, "Curse 
yez!  curse  yez!  ye  divil.  All  holy  saints  and  angels  curse 
yez !  and  the  blissed  Virgin  curse  yez  ;  and  every  person  that 
takes  sides  against  that  blissed  child,  curse  them !  fer  didn't  he 
go  over  the  ice  whin  it  cracked  under  his  feet,  and  drag  Patsie 
from  the  waters  whin  he  wid  have  drownded,  sure  ? "  And 
then  going  up  to  little  Robin,  while  tears  from  her  honest  eyes 
fell  faster  and  faster  as  she  spoke,  said,  ' '  Courage,  darlint. 
The  law  niver  can  harm  the  likes  of  yees.  O  Holy  Virgin 
save  yez  from  all  those  blood-thirsty  hounds! " 

18 


282  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

Robin,  paralyzed  with  grief  at  the  death  of  this  true  hearted 
servant  girl,  could  scarcely  repeat  his  story  which  he  was  com- 
pelled to  give  under  oath,  but  which,  when  he  had  finished,  had 
impressed  the  great  throng  there  gathered,  as  being  true  as 
that  blessed  book  which  the  dear  boy  raised  so  reverently  to 
his  lips. 

The  faith  of  Elice  for  a  moment  wavered,  and  she  inwardly 
ejaculated,  "  Oh  !  where  is  God,  that  He  thus  permits  the  wick- 
ed to  triumph?"  'Then  she  thought  of  the  vision  of  the 
day,  and  the  same  voice  came  back  to  her  :  "  He  shall  give  His 
angels  charge  concerning  thee,"  and  felt  that  it  was  the  Eternal 
One  who  had  spoken  through  His  angels;  and  she  laid  her  hand 
upon  her  throbbing  heart  and  said,  "  Be  still!  be  still !  Though 
Thou  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  Thee." 

"Don't  you  see,"  said  Joe  Gordon,  this  most  obedient  of 
Satan's  subjects,  "how  pale  she  is?"  pointing  to  Elice,  "and 
how  haggard  and  how  besmeared  with  blood?  Now  she  must 
have  had  a  hand  in  this,  and  I'll  sift  it  to  the  bottom.  She  may 
have  the  power  to  pay  me  a  large  sum  of  money  to  let  her 
alone.  Let's  work  this  up,  Reuben  Thurston,"  this  being  the 
name  of  his  favorite.  "Now,  you  know  you  were  the  second 
man  on  the  spot.  Zounds !  if  you  had  been  the  first,  then  we 
would  have  them  ;  but  it's  that  old  feller,  Woodbergh,  that  will 
tell  the  whole  truth — couldn't  bribe  him  to  treachery  or  false- 
hood ;  but  then,  we'll  do  the  best  we  can  for  all  that.  Let  her 
alone  for  a  few  days ;  we  will  first  establish  the  fact  that  it  is 
murder  and  then  we  will  feel  our  way  along ;  we  will  throw  out 
our  little  hints  and  see  how  the  public  receives  it,  for  if  we 
should  boldly  assert  our  belief  in  her  guilt,  we  might  receive  a 
dressing  of  tar  and  feathers ;  for  you  know  she  has  a  great 
many  friends,  and  they  rank  among  the  most  influential  in  the 
city.  The  newspaper  is  the  most  powerful  weapon  we  can  use, 
and  this  old  printer  up  here  would  use  his  infernal  machinery  to 
send  a  man  to  hell  for  a  five  dollar  bill." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  28$ 

"  Capital!  I  know  now  you're  prime  minister  from  that  infer- 
nal region.  I'll  help  you  all  I  know." 

4 '  And  that  ain't  much  !  "  Gordon  answered  laughing ;  "  but  as 
far  as  you  do  know  you'll  answer;  but  when  you  come  to 
swearing,  we'll  cook  that  up.  I  want  to  tell  you  what  to  say 
inasmuch  as  you'd  just  as  live  swear  to  one  thing  as  another." 

"  Providing " 

"I  understand.  Of  'course  all  the  money  we  make  out 
of  this  thing  shall  be  divided  even  with  every  one  in  the 
ring." 

"  All  right,  I'm  at  your  service." 


284  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

At  early  dawn  Elice  stole  into  the  room  where  the  servant 
girl  lay  in  her  winding  sheet,  once  more  to  gaze  upon  her  lovely 
features,  and,  stooping  down,  she  kissed  those  marble  lips  that 
had  never  fora  single  time  in  her  presence  spoken  but  in  gentle- 
ness and  kindness;  and  as  the  last  words  of  their  conversation 
of  the  day  previous  came  to  mind: — "I  will,  I  do  trust  my 
Saviour," — she  could  not  help  feeling  that  she  was  now  in  the 
society  of  "just  men  made  perfect;"  that  her  pure  soul  was 
drinking  from  those  everlasting  fountains  of  joy  that  flow  in  the 
paradise  of  God  ;  and  how  rejoiced  she  was  that,  although  ex- 
hausted, feeble  and  sick,  she  had  permitted  her  to  come  to  her 
room,  and  unfold  her  mind;  for  now  she  felt  assured  that, 
she  slept  the  sweet  sleep  of  peace — she  reposed  in  the  arms  of 
Jesus  and  would  awake  in  the  morning  of  the  resurrection,  in- 
corruptible. And  she  thought,  oh  !  could  she  but  tell  her  tale, 
how  soon  the  mystified  senses  of  unbelievers  would  discover 
the  cause  of  her  death,  and  how  glad  would  she  be  to  clear  that 
innocent  boy  whom  she  had  learned  to  love  as  a  brother,  and 
who  had  so  very  often  assisted  her  in  her  work  when  he  had 
seen  her  flag  with  weariness  or  she  was  hastening  to  get  through 
with  business  for  a  ride,  a  walk,  church  or  party.  Severing  a 
tress  of  her  beautiful  golden  hair  which  she  desired  for  a  keep- 
sake from  one  who  had  rendered  her  so  many  kind  services — 
through  indisposition  and  otherwise — she  said,  "Farewell,  dear 
child ;  in  Heaven  we'll  meet  again  ;  till  then  a  last  farewell — 
farewell !  " 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  285 

Robin  went  about  as  one  beside  himself,  neither  eating  nor 
sleeping  for  several  days  and  nights  in  succession. 

"O  mamma!  "  he  said,  "if  we  had  only  been  obedient  to 
your  wishes,  that  accident  would  not  have  happened." 

"  No,  darling,"  she  answered,  "whenever  we  break  the  laws 
of  God,  we  suffer  for  it ;  and  you  know  that  is  an  express  com- 
mand :  'Children,  obey  your  parents."' 

' '  I  know — that  is  what  I  learned  long  ago  at  Sunday  school, 
and  if  I  had  only  heeded  it,  we  might  have  been  saved  so  much 
sorrow  of  heart,  so  much  trouble,  and  Nora  would  now  be  living, 
and  we  would  all  be  so  happy." 

' '  Let  it  teach  you  a  lesson,  dear — the  sight  of  that  cold  clay 
form  which,  but  for  ignorance  and  folly,  might  now  be  in  our 
midst  flushed  with  the  hue  of  health  and  happiness ;  and  re- 
member that  a  violation  of  those  precepts  laid  down  in  the  Bible 
brings  misery  and  death.  But  go  now  to  God  in  prayer,  ask 
his  forgiveness  for  the  great  sin  which  you  have  committed,  as 
well  as  all  of  the  sins  which  embitter  your  life,  if,  perchance, 
He  will  relieve  you  of  the  burden  that  oppresses  your  agonized 
soul." 

Then  Elice,  with  her  hands  upon  the  head  of  little  Robin, 
upon  her  bended  knees,  poured  out  -her  thoughts  to  the  only 
source  from  which  they  could  derive  one  ray  of  comfort  at  this 
trying  hour ;  and  oh !  how  earnestly  she  besought  Him  that 
this  sad  circumstance  might  be  the  means  of  bringing  him  while 
yet  in  the  springtime  of  his  life  to  seek  the  face  of  Deity ;  that 
the  blossom  of  true  piety  might  grow  up  in  the  garden  of  his 
heart;  and  that  his  after  life  might  show  that  he  was  indeed  a 
child  of  the  most  High  ;  that  there  might  be  no  tares  to  separate 
from  the  wheat,  and  when  the  beautiful  harvest  should  at  last 
come,  he  might  hear  it  said,  "Well  done,  thou  good  and  faith- 
ful servant,  enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord." 

"O  mamma  !  "  he  said,  "why  do  they  wish  to  lay  this  terrible 
deed  to  me?  I  would  die  myself,  before  I  would  have  harmed 
her  in  the  least." 


286  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

"I  believe  you  would,  but  this  is  one  of  the  great  trials  that 
God  permits ;  and  perhaps  it  is  for  your  good.  His  ways  are 
often  mysterious  and  past  finding  out ;  but  we  shall  know  if  we 
are  ever  so  happy  as  to  enter  through  the  golden  gates  into 
the  celestial  city." 

"I  wish  I  could  understand,"  the  child  said,  rubbing  his 
forehead,  "now  in  one  of  our  lessons  was  this  verse.  'Ye  must 
be  born  again,  or  ye  can  in  no  wise  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.'  The  teacher  explained  it,  but  some  way  I  could  not 
see  just  how  it  was." 

"It  is  simply  this:  we  must  have  all  evil,  such  as  envy, 
malice,  hatred,  and  pride,  rooted  from  our  hearts ;  love  all  man- 
kind, and  try  to  do  them  good,  and  love  the  great  God  above  who 
sent  His  beloved  Son  into  the  world  to  die  for  us  poor  fellow 
creatures  that  we  through  Him  might  have  everlasting  life." 

"  And  if  we  fail  to  do  this,  we  cannot  go  to  Heaven — is  that 
it?  Now  I  don't  see  how  I  am  to  love  Joe  Gordon,  who  is  try- 
ing so  hard  to  make  me  out  a  murderer,  and  would  like  to  see 
me  hung  for  what  I  am  not  guilty.  O  mamma,  impossible ! 
I  hate  him  with  all  my  heart,  for  he  is  so  vile,  such  a  wicked, 
cruel  wretch  to  want  to  make  us  all  so  much  trouble.  Does 
God  love  him? " 

"Even  if  they  brought  in  false  testimony  at  last  to  condemn 
you,  it  would  be  no  worse  treatment  than  our  Saviour  received 
at  the  hands  of  his  supposed  friends  who,  when  He  was  point- 
ing them  to  the  way  of  life,  making  so  many  sacrifices  to  do 
them  good,  was  arraigned  before  Pontius  Pilate  to  answer  to 
charges  of  which  He  was  never  guilty ;  at  last  compelled  to 
wear  a  crown  of  thorns,  bear  the  cross,  and  in  the  face  of  a 
cruel  mob  was  crucified."  • 

"And  He  loved  them?" 

"  He  prayed  when  He  was  suspended  between  the  heavens 
and  the  earth,  when  they  were  taunting  Him  with  cruel  words, 
the  nails  being  driven  through  his  hands  and  feet,  and  the  blood 


THE  TRIALS  OF   A  STEPMOTHER.  287 

flowing  from  his  wounds,  '  Father,  forgive  them,  they  know 
not  what  they  do?"1 

"But  He  is  God,  mamma,  there  is  not  so  much  expected  of 
us." 

"Don't  you  know  in  the  Lord's  Prayer,  the  most  beautiful 
ever  uttered  or  taught  on  earth,  are  these  words :  '  Forgive  us 
our  trespasses  as  we  forgive  those  who  trespass  against  us'?  " 

Robin  looked  up  into  her  pale  and  sorrowful  face,  ' '  I  can- 
not, they  have  made  you  such  suffering  ;  if  it  were  only  myself, 
I  might." 

' '  But  you  will  try  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,  for  your  sake,  if  you  say  so." 

"Not  mine  but  your  own — Christ  Jesus  help  my  poor,  dear 
boy!" 


288  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clayton  had  retired  for  the  night.  They  had 
not  yet  been  asleep  when  the  old  fashioned  clock  that  hung  in 
the  dining-room  struck  twelve. 

A  loud  knock  was  heard  at  the  door. 

"Who  can  be  here  at  this  time,"  said  Elice. 

"I  cannot  imagine,  "her  husband  replied,  "  but  I  will  know;' 
and,  hurrying  out,  he  was  soon  face  to  face  with  Joe  Gordon  and 
Ben  Brown  ;  the  latter  being  a  detective  from  a  neighboring 
city,  and  employed  by  this  vile  policeman  to  work  up  the 
case. 

"  I  have  a  warrant  for  the  arrest  of  your  wife." 

"  What  is  the  charge  ?  " 

"  A  very  grave  one,  sir — as  accomplice  with  your  son  in  the 
murder  of  her  servant  girl,  on  the  2pth  of  December  last ;  and 
we  came  for  the  purpose  of  taking  the  body.  We7  want  her  to 
come  with  us  to  the  hotel,  where  we  shall  take  charge  of  her 
through  the  night,  thence  to  Cambden  on  the  early  train,  to 
answer  to  the  crime  committed." 

Elice  heard  a  part  of  the  conversation  but,  wild  with  terror, 
inquired  of  her  husband  if  she  must  be  dragged  from  the  house 
by  these  ruffians  at  that  hour  of  the  night ;  and  asked  him  if  he 
could  not  protect  her  from  these  pitiless  rascals. 

"I  told  them  I  would  be  responsible,"  he  said,  "for  your 
appearance ;  and  with  this  assurance  they  consented  to  let  you 
remain  where  you  are.  But  go  back  to  bed  ;  sleep  if  you  can, 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  289 

for  to-morrow  at  an  early  hour,  in  -the  custody  of  these  pfficers, 
you  are  to  go  to  Cambden,  where  you  are  to  have  an  examination 
by  the  district  attorney  before  a  justice  of  the  peace ;  and  if 
found  guilty,  to  be  committed  to  jail,  there  to  await  the  open- 
ing of  court,  when  you  will  have  your  last  and  final  trial  before 
the  high  judge  of  the  county ;  then  convicted  or  cleared,  as 
can  be  shown  by  evidence  whether  you  are  innocent  or  guilty. 

"But  I  can  prove  my  innocence,  you  know,  papa." 

"You  have  no  right  to  bring  witnesses  at  all,  it  is  a  one- 
sided thing,  and  the  worst  feature  in  the  case  is,  it  is  unbail- 
able." 

"  Oh,  the  injustice  !  cruel,  false  injustice  !  " 

"Yes,  that  is  true,  but  law  is  law,  and  we  cannot  alter  it; 
we  must  abide  by  its  decision  every  time." 

The  heart  of  Elice  throbbed  wildly  when  she  thought  of  the 
chances  she  sustained  of  being  handcuffed  and  taken  to  prison  ; 
for  she  felt  she  was  in  the  hands  of  a  cruel  mob  that  would 
probably  bear  witness  to  anything  to  condemn  her ;  and  it 
seemed  beyond  the  power  of  human  wisdom  to  aid  her,  or  her 
friends  to  do  much  good. 

She  went  up  stairs  and  tapped  gently  at  the  door  of  her  sis- 
ter's room,  who  had  heard  all  that  had  transpired,  and  was 
now  on  her  bended  knees,  asking  God  to  protect  and  make  a 
way  for  the  escape  of  the  innocent.  She  arose  when  Elice 
entered,  her  face  radiant  with  hope  that  had  been  so  strength- 
ened through  her  supplication  at  the  throne  of  grace. 

"O,  my  darling  sister,"  she  said,  "God  will  come  to  your 
succor;  though  all  earthly  friends  forsake,  yet  He  will  not  for- 
sake His  children.  Can  you  trust  Him  ?" 

"Yes,  yes,  I  do." 

They  then  opened  the  large  Bible — a  gift  to  Elice  from  her 
dear  departed  father — to  see  what  God  would  speak  by  the 
mouth  of  His  prophets,  feeling  that  this  was  their  only  rock  of 
refuge,  their  only  source  of  comfort  in  this  terrible  hour  of 
agony  and  distress.  The  first  chapter  they  turned  to  was  about 


29O  THOSE  ORPHANS,   QR 

the  wcmderful  deliverance  of  Paul  and  Silas  from  a  dark  and 
gloomy  prison  ;  how  their  bonds  were  loosed  and  they  were  set 
at  liberty  by  the  Great  Jehovah,  whom  they  feared  and  served. 
The  next,  of  Daniel ;  how  God  sent  His  angels  and  closed  the 
mouths  of  the  lions  that  they  did  him  no  harm.  Then  the 
Hebrew  children,  with  whose  history  every  child  is  familiar ; 
and  oh  !  how  their  hearts  bounded  with  joy  and  praise  that  God 
was  the  Judge  and  not  man  ;  and  that  He  is  able  now  as  then 
to  show  His  power  and  goodness  ;  and  they  believed  He  would 
do  it  in  shielding  Elice  from  any  harm  that  a  wicked  mob  might 
devise,  and  they  thanked  Him  again  and  again  and  lifted  up 
their  voices  in  praise  to  Him  who,  they  felt,  would  show  the 
designing  that  He  could  rule  on  earth  as  well  as  in  the  heavens, 
and  that  all  things  could  be  consumed  by  the  breath  of  His 
nostrils.  And  arising  from  their  knees  with  tears  of  gladness 
trickling  down  their  cheeks,  that  their  kind  Father  had  deigned 
thus  to  show  His  smiling  face  to  His  poor,  sinful  worms,  kissed 
each  other  a  final  good  night,  while  each  repaired  to  her  bed 
and  slept  a  sweet,  peaceful  sleep,  feeling  that  angels  were  watch- 
ing over  them  to  deliver  from  evil. 

The  next  morning  the  news  of  the  arrest  of  Elice  spread  like 
wild  fire,  while  her  friends  flocked  around  her  en  masse,  each  anx- 
ious to  do  something  for  her.  Among  them  was  the  beautiful 
and  accomplished  daughter  of  a  wealthy  banker  of  the  city, 
whose  ears  were  ever  open  to  the  cry  of  distress. 

"O  Mrs.  Clayton,"  said  she  in  the  most  sympathetic  of  tones, 
"what  can  I  do?  I  would  willingly  go  to  Cambden  on  foot  if 
it  would  do  any  good,  and  plead  with  those  in  authority,  with 
tears,  to  release  you.  No  respectable  citizen  of  this  place  be- 
lieves the  sad  story  concerning  you ;  all  know  it  to  be  a  base 
fabrication  to  draw  money  from  your  pocket.  Do  not  be  dis- 
heartened; do  not  let  it  trouble  you,  for  you  will  surely  triumph 
over  all  your  foes  and  be  acquitted  at  last,  for  the  prayers  of  all 
the  good  that  have  learned  the  sad  news  of  your  shameful  arrest 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  29 1 

will  go  up  from  their  altars  this  morning;  and  we  trust  that  God 
who  hears  and  answers  prayer." 

"Yes,"  said  Elice,  "praise  His  great  and  holy  name.  He 
leadeth  us  by  a  way  that  we  know  not,  but  we  must  follow  Him." 

Many  accompanied  her  to  the  depot ;  and,  as  she  waved  a 
good-bye  from  the  platform  where  she  stood  until  the  moving 
of  the  train,  all  looked  after  her  with  moistened  eyes,  and  turned 
again  toward  their  homes  with  sorrowing  hearts. 

Mrs.  Leland,  arriving  at  her  father's  princely  mansion,  sat 
down  with  a  goodly  number  of  friends  and  foes  already  collected 
to  discuss  the  only  question  thought  or  spoken  of  in  town  at 
the  present  hour — whether  Mrs.  Clayton  was  innocent  or  guilty 
of  the  alleged  crime  of  murder,  and  held  them  spellbound  for 
more  than  an  hour  with  her  eloquent  words  spoken  in  defense 
of  her  absent  friend ;  and  if  any  there  had  a  shadow  of  a  doubt 
before  her  touching  appeal  for  the  right,  it  was  dissipated  before 
her  weighty  arguments,  that  would  have  been  complimentary  to 
a  lawyer  pleading  for  the  life  of  his  client.  "I  know  she  is 
innocent  as  the  angels  above,  and  you  know  it,  but  the  lie  has 
already  been  heralded  to  the  world:  among  strangers,  she  bears 
the  mark  of  Cain,  and  it  must  be  washed  away." 

She  then  got  paper  and  pencil  and  wrote  the  following : 

"REMONSTRANCE. 

"Being  personally  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Elice  Clayton,  and 
always  knowing  her  to  be  a  woman  of  untarnished  reputation, 
and  standing  high  in  the  estimation  of  her  friends  as  regards 
everything  that  is  purely  religious  or  moral,  of  a  tender,  sym- 
pathetic, kind-hearted  nature ;  we,  the  undersigned,  with  a  full 
belief  in  her  innocence  respecting  the  atrocious  crime  of  murder ; 
also  in  that  of  her  son  who  is  now  but  a  mere  child,  of  whom  we 
can  truly  say  that  cruelty  bears  no  part  in  his  nature ;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  there  have  many  instances  come  under  our  observa- 
tion of  his  seeking  out,  among  the  poor  and  needy,  a  sufferer 
and  relieving  his  necessities,  kindly  bestowing  upon  him  the  last 
farthing  he  possessed ;  assisting  many  a  poor  wayfarer  who  had 


2p2  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

enlisted  his  sympathy  by  his  tales  of  poverty  and  distress,  by  an 
intercession  with  some  friend  to  give  him  a  night's  lodging,  a 
meal  of  victuals,  or  clothes  to  keep  him  from  freezing  to  death 
through  the  biting  frosts  of  winter, — wish  to  publish  these  facts 
in  the  city  newspaper,  from  which  we  hope  they  will  be  copied 
far  and  wide,  that  every  shadow  may  vanish  that  has  come 
to  those  fair  names  through  the  rascally  villains  whose  only 
object,  we  believe,  is  to  make  money  by  the  deep  plotted 
intrigues  and  falsehoods  which  they  have  caused  to  be  put  in 
circulation  against  them." 

After  this  was  completed,  she  read  it  to  those  there  assem- 
bled, when  all  in  th.e  room,  including  her  good  father  and 
mother,  attached  their  names  to  the  paper.  She  then  went  to 
the  clergy,  all  of  whom  were  glad  of  the  privilege  of  doing  her 
the  favor;  then  to  the  most  of  the  respectable  citizens  of  the 
place,  who,  without  the  least  hesitation,  followed  their  exam- 
ple. It  was  then  published,  that  every  one  might  see  for  him- 
self the  great  respect  in  which  they  were  held  by  the  commu- 
nity in  which  they  had  so  long  been  citizens. 

The  cars  by  this  time  had  borne  Elice,  her  husband,  sister  and 
the  officers  into  Cambden,  and  they  were  seated  in  the  old 
court  house,  on  Sixth  street,  to  await  further  developments. 
Elice  went  before  the  judge,  waived  examination,  and  gave  bail 
for  her  appearance  at  court.  In  the  meanwhile  a  large  con- 
course of  people  were  assembled  at  a  good-sized  hall,  hired  es- 
pecially by  the  justice  of  the  peace,  as  his  was  too  small  to 
hold  the  crowd  that  had  gathered  to  listen  to  the  examination 
of  the  prisoners.  They  were  all  waiting  with  breathless  ex- 
pectancy to  see  them  enter.  The  time  came  for  them  to  make 
their  appearance,  but  they  did  not  come.  Half  an  hour 
elapsed,  the  mob  held  their  breath  in  suspense ;  while  all  the 
people  wondered  what  it  meant.  There  was  mingling  of 
voices  asking  why  they  tarried ;  what  was  the  matter ;  while 
the  justice,  who  seemed  to  feel  the  dignity  of  his  calling,  with 
his  mind  already  made  up  without  the  hearing ;  who,  with  the 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  293 

filth  and  rubbish  of  Lavarre — in  other  words,  the  prosecutors 
and  witnesses  in  the  case — in  prospective  saw  their  towns- 
woman  committed  to  jail ;  and  gloried  to  see  her  there  behind 
the  iron  grates  and  locked  away  from  the  sight  of  her  friends. 
But  she  would  come,  and  no  mistake,  they  all  said.  In  a  mo- 
ment the  detective  entered,  bearing  a  paper  from  the  court, 
which  freed  her  from  all  further  molestation  until  the  time  of 
her  trial;  and  she  was  free  to  roam  whither  she  would. 

"  The  bird  has  flown,  eh  ?  "  said  the  justice  sneeringly,  sud- 
denly precipitated  from  his  throne  of  dignity;  for  he  had 
forgotten  there  was  any  power  in  the  State  but  his  own; 
and  coveted  so  much  the  honor  of  passing  judgment  upon  his 
victim ;  so  crafty  to  receive  his  fees,  and  so  anxious  to  please 
the  low-bred  mob  that  employed  him. 

"Was  ever  the  like  known  ?"  said  a  person  sitting  by  the 
side  of  an  old  man  whose  hair  was  already  whitened  by  the 
frosts  of  many  years. 

' '  Yes,  eighteen  hundred  years  ago  there  was  a  certain  man, 
Peter,  who  was  thrown  into  prison,  bound  with  chains  and 
sleeping  between  two  soldiers  ;  and  behold  the  angel  of  the 
Lord  came  upon  him,  and  alight  shone  into  the  prison,  and  he 
smote  Peter  on  the  side,  and  bade  him  arise ;  and  his  chains 
fell  off  He  told  him  to  bind  on  his  sandals  and  follow  him, 
and  he  did  so.  He  accompanied  him  even  to  the  iron  gate  that 
leads  into  the  city,  which  opened  to  them  of  its  own  accord. 
He  was  miraculously  delivered,  as  you  see,  by  the  great  God 
above ;  and  simply  because  he  feared  and  served  Him.  So 
with  the  prisoner  whom  you  have  so  longed  to  gloat  your  eyes 
upon  this  day;  whom,  if  your  nature  could  be  satisfied,  you 
would  love  to  hang  upon  some  of  those  lofty  shades  just  out- 
side this  building.  But  she  is  released  ;  the  cords  you  bound 
her  with  are  rotten  ;  your  power  has  been  set  at  naught." 

The  mob  dispersed ;  but  not  without  oaths  and  bitter  threats. 
Some  of  them,  in  their  drunken  frenzy,  were  taken  into  custody 
by  the  police. 


294  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

One  of  the  party,  wishing  to  annoy  the  friends  of  Elice  at 
home,  sent  a  telegram  that  she  was  lodged  in  jail,  not  to  be 
released  until  her  trial ;  and  great  pains  were  taken  to  bear  the 
news  to  the  family,  especially  to  little  Robin,  whose  cup  of 
agony  was  now  so  full  that  not  one  drop  could  be  added. 

"O  my  mother!  my  mother!  "  he  exclaimed  in  tones  of  the 
deepest  grief,  ' '  I  could  stay  in  the  gloomy  cell  for  years  rather 
than  you  should  remain  there  one  night." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  295 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

When  Elice  returned  home,  she  found  Mrs.  Rockville,  a  pious 
old  lady  of  over  sixty  years,  seated  in  her  room  waiting  to  re- 
ceive her.  Taking  her  hand  in  both  of  hers  she  said,  "This  is 
what  I  have  prayed  for.  God  is  good,  my  child.  And  so  the 
jail  is  not  your  abiding-place  for  the  night  as  some  have 
predicted." 

"No,"  answered  Elice.  "  Did  ever  a  child  have  more  reason 
to  be  thankful  to  a  kind  and  tender  parent,  than  I  to  my  beloved 
Heavenly  Father  this  day — for  he  has  delivered  me  from  all  my 
enemies." 

"Do  not  fear,  all  will  be  right  in  the  end — you  can  never  be 
condemned.  Though  the  way  may  appear  dark  and  your  ene- 
mies beset  you  on  every  hand,  there  is  a  steady  unwavering 
light  that  .can  lead  you  safely  through.  You  trust  it?" 

"  How  can  I  help  it  after  what  I  have  passed  through  ?  I  do, 
indeed — but  you  know  the  innocent  oftentimes  suffer." 

"  But  you  believe  God  hears  and  answers  prayer?  To-day 
I  have  prayed  as  I  never  before  have  done  that  the  truth  might 
shine  forth  to  the  world  concerning  this  great  calamity — that  you 
might  be  cleared  of  every  stain,  and  I  felt  assured  it  was  the  wit- 
ness of  the  Spirit  when  I  heard  as  it  were  a  voice  saying :  '  As 
your  faith,  so  be  it  unto  you,' — and  I  am  so  glad  to-night  to  see 
you  so  calm  under  such  distressing  circumstances." 

Elice  could  only  answer  :  "God  is  good — so  good  in  giving 
me  so  faithful  an  advocate  of  my  cause,  but,  Mrs.  Rockwell, 


296  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

were  I  condemned  to  die,  this  same  beautiful  light  of  which  you 
have  spoken  would  illumine  the  dark  precincts  of  the  tomb,  and 
I  should  only  get  home  a  little  sooner.  The  only  terrible  thought 
about  it  is  that  I  should  be  branded  as  a  murderer  and  the  cruel 
disgrace  fall  upon  my  children." 

"Did  you  know  I  saw  you  at  the  train  this'morning?  I  went 
for  the  purpose  of  giving  you  encouragement,  but  when  I  got 
there,  my  heart  was  too  full  for  utterance.  Like  our  Saviour, 
you  were  in  the  midst  of  a  mob  guarded  by  officers.  Did  you, 
like  Him,  my  child,  feel  like  praying:  'Father,  forgive  them,  for 
they  know  not  What  they  do  '  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  thought  of  my  position.  I  was  lifted  above  and 
beyond — it  was  the  same  as  though  spirits  of  justice  and  love 
floated  between  them  and  me,  with  flaming  swords  to  keep  me 
from  injury,  and  thus  they  have  kept  their  places  until  the 
present,  and  my  unwavering  trust  in  my  Divine  Master  tells  me 
that  all  their  efforts  against  me  will  be  useless." 

The  good  old  mother  in  Israel  whose  face  was  now  illumi- 
nated with  the  light  of  love  divine  commenced  singing: 

' '  Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow, 
Praise  Him  all  creatures  here  below, 
Praise  Him  above  ye  Heavenly  Host) — 
Praise  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost." 

in  which  Elice  joined  heartily. 

She  then  said:    "  Oh  that  every  one  could  have  this  childlike 

simplicity  and  faith.     Whatever  your  fate  might  be,  I  believe 

you  could  meet  it  calmly." 

"My  Saviour  has  taken  away  the  sting  of  the  grave." 
"Yes!  yes!  he  has  lain  there  before  us,  and  he  arose  in  all 

the  beauty  of  incorruptibility.    It  will  be  sweet  for  me  to  follow 

where  he  leads." 

"For  he  will  conduct  us  to  glory  and  immortality." 

"To  mansions  fair  that  he  hath  fitted  up  for  those  who  love 

Him." 

' '  And  we  shall  never  hunger  and  thirst  any  more,  for  we 

shall  continually  eat  of  the  fruit  and  drink  of  the  fountain  that 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  297 

give  to  us  everlasting  life.  It  is  not  a  sad  picture — the  death  of 
the  Christian.  A  life-boat  filled  with  angels  bearing  him 
steadily  on  over  the  dark  and  turbid  waters  of  death,  and  carry- 
ing him  through  pearly  gates  into  Heaven." 

Mrs.  Rockwell  then  shaking   Elice  by  the  hand,  imprinting 
a  kiss  upon  the  pale  face,  went  home,  praying  all  the  way  that 
her  faith,  which  was  so  strong,  fail  her  not,  through  the  terrible 
ordeal  which  she  yet -must  pass. 
19 


THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

The  next  day  was  communion  in  the  church  of  which  Elice 
was  a  member ;  and  oh !  with  what  pleasure,  and  real  happi- 
ness did  she  look  forward  to  the  moment  when  she  with  her 
friends  might  kneel  around  the  altar,  and  partake  of  the  sym- 
bols of  the  suffering  and  death  of  her  dear  Redeemer. 

She  would  then  be  among  those  who  would  not  look  upon 
her  with  suspicious  eyes,  but  as  a  member  of  the  great  family 
who  would  throw  their  protecting  arms  about  her,  and  shield 
her  from  the  calumnious  breath  of  the  outside  world,  and  encour- 
age her  with  words  of  hope  in  her  great  tribulation. 

Her  mind  wandered  out  to  the  garden  of  Gethsemane,  and 
she  thought  of  the  agony  Christ  must  have  endured  to 
cause  him  to  sweat  great  drops  of  blood ;  and  how  keen  his 
anguish,  when  he  was  betrayed  by  a  bosom  friend  with  a  kiss 
on  his  cheek,  and  none  of  these  things  have  or  will  happen  to 
me — they  were  my  foes,  and  not  my  friends  in  the  church.  If  I 
should  be  thus  treated,  I  would  lose  all  faith  I  believe  in 
Christianity — for  no  Christian  would  or  could  treat  another 
Christian  after  this  manner. 

True  they  have  not  been  to  visit  me,  but  as  yet  they  have 
had  no  opportunity,  only  this  beloved  mother,  Mrs.  Rockwell, 
who  is  a  very  pillar  in  the  church,  active  in  doing  good  in  every 
spot  and  place,  and  I  have  learned  from  her  lips  that  all  with 
whom  she  has  conversed  considered  me  innocent,  and  incap- 
able of  so  horrid  a  deed.  The  minister  also  has  placed  with  his 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  299 

own  hands  his  signature  to  the  remonstrance  drawn  up  in  my 
favor. 

Oh  !  my  beloved  pastor — like  as  a  hen  gathereth  her  chickens 
under  her  wings  to  shield  them  from  the  coming  storm,  or  as  a 
good  shepherd  watches  over  his  flock  to  keep  away  the  wolves 
who  "might  tear  them  in  pieces  and  destroy  them  utterly,  so 
doth  he  look  after  the  lowliest  of  his  flock  over  which  he  has 
been  appointed  by  his  Master  above,  and  how  sweet,  how  in- 
comparably sweet — though  hell  rages  without,  and  the  adver- 
sary would  swallow  us  up,  we  may  seek  the  dear  little  nest, 
receive  the  smiles  of  kindred  spirits  and  feel  that  we  are  not  by 
them  misapprehended. 

Soon  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  door — she  opened  it — her  pas- 
tor stood  before  her. 

Oh  !  how  her  heart  bounded  with  joy  to  think  that  though 
the  winds  were  howling  without,  he  had,  unmindful  of  the 
storm,  come  to  comfort  her — how  kind  and  considerate  he  was 
of  her  feelings. 

He  did  not  offer  his  hand — he  did  not  call  her  sister  as  was 
his  wont,  but  coldly  said,  "Good  morning,  madam, "  with  no 
demonstration  of  kindly  feeling. 

"Will  you  be  seated?"  said  Elice,  overwhelmed  with  grief 
caused  by  the  frigidity  of  his  manner. 

"  I  have  but  a  moment  to  stay,"  he  replied,  "  have  been  sent 
by  the  church,  who  ask  as  a  favor  at  your  hands,  that  you  with- 
draw. It  is  a  painful  duty  that  has  been  imposed  upon  me,  but 
one  which  I  feel  that  I  owe,  inasmuch  as  I  am  its  pastor — and 
when  I  explain  it  to  you,  of  course,  you  must  see  it  is  the 
wisest  course  for  all." 

"  How  so?  "  said  Elice,  trying  to  be  calm. 

"Well,  please  understand  me,  in  the  first  place,  there  is 
not  a  single  member  who  does  not  believe  you  innocent,  and  a 
Christian.  But  that  is  not  it— we  are  in  debt,  a  portion  of 
which  we  expect  to  liquidate  through  outsiders — these  people 
who  do  not  belong  to  any  church  but  go  where  they  desire,  and 


3OO  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

many  of  them  have  taken  a  decided  stand  against  you,  and 
declare  if  you  remain  in  the  church  they  shall  go  elsewhere. 
They  pay  liberally — so  you  see  how  we  would  cripple  ourselves 
financially  if  we  allowed  them  to  go  away.  As  a  Christian 
woman  you  would  not  wish  it?" 

"  If  you  were  by  the  wayside  and  saw  a  poor  little  lamb  that 
had  been  assaulted  by  brutal  hands,  and  beaten  until  it  was 
nearly  dead — still  struggling  for  its  life — would  you  put  your 
foot  upon  it?" 

"No,  I  could  not  be  thus  cruel." 

"  If  you  saw  a  child  about  to  be  run  over  by  a  locomotive, 
and  it  was  in  your  power  to  save  it,  would  you  do  so?" 

"Certainly — I  would  try." 

"  Financially  that  could  not  hurt  you — to  show  the  better 
part  of  your  nature — to  be  a  man.  '  If  ye  but  give  a  cup  of 
cold  water  in  My  name  to  one  of  those  who  believe  in  Me,  verily 
I  say  unto  you,  ye  shall  not  lose  your  reward.'  " 

Mr.  Monell  saw  the  point  at  which  Elice  aimed,  and  becom- 
ing exceedingly  angry,  at  last  said,  ' '  I  cannot  see  how  it  is 
going  to  hurt  you  to  withdraw  from  the  church — while  it  will 
do  us  an  infinite  amount  of  good." 

"  You  represent  the  church,  and  they  have  sent  you  ?  Is  this 
the  mind  of  the  whole  body  ?  " 

"Well,  yes — no — I  don't  know  as  it  is,  but  I  believe  it  is  for 
the  best." 

"  I  cannot  acquiesce." 

"Then  we  will  turn  you  out,"  he  said,  and  left  the  house. 

For  the  second  time  since  the  great  trouble  the  faith  of  Elice 
wavered,  and  she  exclaimed  in  bitterness — "Where  is  God? 
Where  is  God?" 

With  the  knowledge  of  but  few  of  the  church,  and  without 
their  consent,  the  name  of  Elice  was  stricken  from  their  books, 
to  the  wonder  and  amazement  of  all  the  Christian  churches  and 
ministers  of  the  place,  as  well  as  most  of  the  residents  of  the 
city. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  30 1 

In  striving  to  make  himself  popular,  Mr.  Monell  became 
exceedingly  unpopular,  while  the  star  of  his  church  was  in  the 
wane  for  several  years,  and  he  left  the  conference  of  which  he 
was  a  member  lest  he  should  be  excommunicated  for  this  viola- 
tion of  their  rules. 


3O2  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 


CHAPTER  L. 

Just  after  the  departure  of  the  pastor  Mrs.  Ashton  and  her 
daughter  called  upon  her. 

Both  threw  their  arms  around  her  neck  and  wept  with  her — 
their  tears  of  genuine  sympathy  and  joy  to  find  her  safely  at 
home  once  more — hers,  at  remembrance  of  the  painful  inter- 
view she  had  just  had,  with  a — supposed — Christian  friend. 

Mrs.  Ashton  led  .Elice  to  a  chair — with  her  soft  hands  stroked 
her  forehead,  brushed  away  the  tears  that  were  still  falling 
upon  her  pale  cheeks  and  kissed  her  affectionately. 

"  My  more  than  friend,"  Elice  murmured,  "my  mother — my 
sister — how  can  I  repay  you  for  the  great  interest  you  have 
taken  in  my  welfare — but  God  will  reward." 

She  then  told  her  to  be  of  good  cheer;  that  she  had  friends — 
enough  of  them — most  loyal,  and  not  to  think  they  would 
forsake  her — that  her  husband  started  for  Cambden  on  the  very 
next  train  out,  after  the  news  came  of  her  shameful  confine- 
ment in  jail,  to  tell  the  sheriff  to  give  her  all  the  privileges  of 
the  house — to  spare  no  pains  to  make  her  comfortable — a  seat 
at  their  own  table,  and  if  there  were  any  bills  to  settle  he  would 
willingly  attend  to  it. 

At  this  announcement  a  dizziness  came  over  Elice — a  mist 
floated  before  her  eyes — she  was  about  to  faint,  for  she  felt  her- 
self torn  in  spirit  from  all  the  creeds  and  dogmas  of  the  church, 
even  to  doubt  their  right  to  be  called  Christians,  as  they  had 
showed  themselves  so  uncharitable,  for  she  could  not  help  draw- 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  303 

ing  the  contrast  between  this  man  of  the  world,  who  made  no 
pretensions  of  religion  and  Christianity,  and  him  who  rep- 
resented the  church — him  who  had  just  now  wished  to  turn  her 
from  the  shelter  of  the  fold,  when  the  storms  of  persecution 
were  raging  wildly  around,  and  the  wolves  had  left  their  coverts 
in  the 'forest  to  pounce  upon  their  prey  as  soon  as  the  unfaith- 
ful shepherd  had  let  down  the  bars,  and  with  his  own  hands  had 
hurled  to  them  the  victim. 

"  I  thought  I  was  a  bearer  of  good  rrews,".said  Mrs.  Ashton. 

"  Indeed !  indeed,  you  are,  but  life,  religion,  everything  has 
become  so  mystified,  and  I  cannot  see  my  way  through  the 
darkness  which  envelops  me.  I  feel  myself  struggling  on  the 
waves  of  unbelief,  and  I  fear  I  must  sink  yet  into  the  dark  al^yss 
of  hopeless  despair,  with  all  the  light  and  knowledge  which  I 
supposed  I  possessed." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  religion  is,  but  it  occurs  to  me  that  the 
greater  good  that  comes  to  me,  the  more  trust  I  should  feel  in 
the  watchful  care  of  Providence.  I  cannot  understand  why  you 
should  lack  faith.  From  my  standpoint  I  discovered,  in  your 
happy  release  to-day,  the  dove  sent  forth  from  the  windows  of 
Heaven  and  bearing  to  your  poor  wounded  spirit  the  olive 
branch  of  peace — a  current  from  the  Eternal  which  must  take 
you  into  the  harbor  of  rest  at  last.  It  is  strange  you  do  not 
see  it." 

Elice  then  told  her  friend  all  that  had  occurred  between  her 
and  her  pastor,  and  said  it  was  this  that  puzzled  and  perplexed 
her. 

"  I  understand  now,"  she  said.  "  It  is  not  all  gold  that  glit- 
ters. You  have  had  your  heart  too  much  bound  up  in  the 
church — you  have  mistaken  the  shell  for  the  sweet  kernel 
inside." 

Elice  bowed  her  head  in  meekness.  She  was  willing,  yea, 
even  glad  to  be  taught,  although  it  was  not  by  the  old  ortho- 
dox method. 

' '  I  knowj  I  am  perfectly  incapable  of  unfolding  the  Scrip- 


3O4  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

tures  to  such  a  one  as  you — who  all  your  life  have  lived  under 
the  sound  of  the  Gospel — in  strict  attendance  upon  public  wor- 
ship, Sabbath  school,  Bible  class,  prayer  and  class  meetings — 
observing  every  form  of  the  church,  but  if  you  will  allow  me 
to  illustrate  without  taking  offense,  I  will  do  so — the  truth  of 
which  has  just  flashed  athwart  my  mind  from  some  source — I 
think  from  a  pure  one — and  suits  your  case. 

"When  Peter  was  sailing  with  kindred  companions  upon  a 
calm  and  undisturbed  sea,  he  saw  only  the  light  house — thought 
only  of  the  life-boat  that  would  be  sent  out  should  a  terrible 
tempest  come  furiously  upon  them.  But  when  the  winds  blew 
high,  the  ship  commenced  rocking  to  and  fro,  the  big  waves 
leap,  and  lash  her  sides  as  though  they  would  swallow  her  up, 
his  faith  in  human  aid  was  shaken  ;  for  no  one  ventured  out  to 
his  rescue,  and  while  he  battled  bravely  to  save  his  crew,  and 
was  not  expecting  it  any  other  way  than  the  one  heretofore 
spoken  of,  he  did  not  recognize  his  Divine  Master  walking  to- 
ward him  on  the  waters,  and  not  until  he  had  commenced 
sinking,  did^he  cry  out,  '  Lord,  save,  or  I  perish. '  Like  you 
he  had  trusted  too  much  in  human  agencies.  Call  it  forms  and 
ceremonies  if  you  like ;  or,  perhaps  you  had  become  a  Jonah  to 
the  pious  captain, — this  may  be  a  better  version.*" 

Elice  smiled:  "  I  think  this  one  will  do,  inasmuch  as  I  was 
cast  overboard." 

"And  now  you  will  not  be  above  your  Master,  but  willing  to 
eat  with  publicans  and  sinners.  Orthodoxy  sees  no  heaven, 
no  Christianity,  only  through  its  own  church,  while  Christ 
gathered  his  followers  from  poor  illiterate  fishermen — from  the 
humble,  everywhere.  I  do  not  profess  to  be  good.  I  know  I 
am  very  sinful,  but  if  I'  ever  do  have  religion,  I  hope  it  will  be 
after  His  style." 

The  eyes  of  Elice  were  opened ;  she  saw  in  her  friend's 
remarks  a  just  rebuke  for  her  former  blind  folly — felt  that 
whether  in  the  church  or  out  of  it  people  were  alone  to  be 
judged  by  their  fruits. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  305 


CHAPTER  LI. 

All  nature  had  commenced  smiling  sweetly.  The  balmy 
breath  of  the  beautiful  spring  had  awakened  the  flowers  to  life ; 
the  young  lambs  were  skipping  on  the  plains,  the  green  grass 
already  covered  the  broad  fields,  while  woodland,  river  and  rivu- 
let, beasts,  birds  and  sparkling  fountains  each  in  its  way  sung 
the  glad  song  of  a  happy  release  from  the  tyrannical  chains  of  a 
hard  and  despotic  winter. 

The  day  had  at  last  come — the  seventh  of  May,  when  Elice 
and  her  son  were  to  be  tried  for  their  lives,  and  as  they  stepped 
into  the  carriage  that  bore  them  to  the  depot,  could  not  help 
observing  the  cloudlessness  of  the  sky,  for  not  a  floating  speck 
seemed  for  a  moment  to  shut  out  the  bright  sunlight. 

"Do  you  see,"  said  Elice,  "  God  is  smiling.  Happy  omen, 
for  prisoners  bound." 

"But  He  has  kept  you  from  being  confined  by  the  slightest 
cord,"  remarked  her  sister. 

"  Except  in  spirit,  dear  sister,  but  they  have  even  then  rested 
so  lightly,  when  I  have  felt  them  lacerating  my  heart,  His  own 
dear  hands  have  come  between  them  and  the  tender  flesh,  and 
have  saved  the  pain  they  otherwise  might  have  inflicted,  and  I 
shall  be  disappointed  if  this  trial  is  not  one  of  deliverance  and 
we  permitted  to  sing  the  sweet  songs  of  our  Great  Deliverer. 
I  have  no  fears,  not  even  a  shadow  of  doubt  crosses  my 
mind  so  great  faith  have  I  in  His  dear  and  precious  promises." 

Groups  of  men  and  boys  of  every  class  and  grade  had  gath- 


3O6  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

ered  on  the  rude  benches  in  front  of  stores,  or  were  standing 
discussing  the  great  topic — the  arrest — the  trial  that  was  so  soon 
to  take  place,  while  many  were  watching  the  prisoners  from 
their  homes  with  tearful  eyes.  They  thought  of  the  chances 
there  might  be  of  their  conviction,  as  they  held  in  their  hands 
the  morning  paper,  containing  the  doings  of  the  grand  jury,  who 
on  the  day  preceding  had  found  a  true  bill  against  Elice — 
murder  in  the  first  degree.  The  same  excitement  prevailed 
in  Cambden  on  their  arrival,  only  many  of  them,  perfectly 
unacquainted,  knowing  only  by  the  stories  that  had  been  in 
circulation,  had  more  curiosity  to  get  a  look  at  the  monsters 
who  could  so  deliberately  assassinate  a  human  being  without 
cause  or  provocation. 

Elice  was  at  last  acquitted,  when   the  case  of  her  son  was 
soon  taken  up  and  ended  with  the  same  happy  result. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  307 


CHAPTER  LII. 

"Will  you  and  your  daughters  join  our  fishing  party,  Mrs. 
Tattum  ?  The  lake  is  as  smooth  as  glass  to-day ;  it  looks  like 
a  storm,  however.  Should  there  be  one  to-night,  I  anticipate 
fine  luck  to-morrow,"  said  Mrs.  Carlyle. 

"I  am  afraid  of  the  water,  never  having  been  out  in  a  row- 
boat." 

1 '  But  they  are  perfectly  safe.  I  have  been  on  the  lake  a 
thousand^  times,  and  no  accident  ever  yet  occurred.  Come, 
don't  be  afraid.  We  will  go  in  the  morning,  and  gather  in  the 
beautiful  trout — in  the  afternoon,  cross  over,  and  pick  huckle- 
berries. They  say  there  are  oceans  of  them  on  the  mountain." 

' '  O  mother !  do  let  us  go  ;  it  will  be  so  delightful.  Only  to 
think  of  having  a  large  basket  of  that  delicious  fruit,  and  all  at 
once!  Who  all  are  going?"  said  Augusta. 

"Just  a  few — Mrs.  Jenks  and  our  teamster.  Take  them 
along  to  do  the  work  mostly,  that  is,  to  row  and  help  carry  the 
berries  and  fish." 

"Capital !  it  takes  you  for  contrivance.  I  suppose  they  think 
it  is  for  obligation's  sake,  because  they  helped  us  along  so  nicely 
with  our  church  trial.  Well,  of  course,  they  were  of  great 
assistance.  By  the  mouth  of  so  many  witnesses,  how  could  we 
help  but  conquer  our  foes?" 

"A  wicked,  terrible  lie !  As  bad  as  I  am  you  couldn't  get  me 
to  swear  for  you,"  said  Hezekiah. 

"Oh,  ease  up!  be  quiet!     You  are  always  coming  around 


3O8  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

when  you  are  not  wanted,  to  say  something  disagreeable,"  his 
wife  replied. 

"Won't  you  go  along,  Mr.  Tattum  ?"  said  Mrs.  Carlyle. 

"Not  I,  nary  a  bit  o'  it.  Should  expect  to  be  swallowed  up 
by  a  wale — boat  and  all — to  go  in  sich  -a  crowd." 

"Hush  up,  now  do!"  Mrs.  Carlyle  answered,  laughing; 
"you  are  pretty  good;  you  never  gave  us  away  to  the  church, 
for  all  you  have  been  very  angry  at  times  with  us  both." 

"It's  a  purty  funny  kind  o'  an  old  bird  that  would  pick  the 
feathers  all  off  o'  his  young  birds,  Mrs.  Carlyle.  I  wouldn't 
never  want  to  lift  up  my  head,  ef  I'd  be  guilty  of  sich  a  thing. 
What  folks  can't  find  out  for  themselves,  they'll  never  know 
from  old  Hezekier." 

"You  will  go  to  Heaven,  I  think." 

"If  so,  shan't  see  you  thar." 

"How  so?  Don't  be  so  hard  on  me.  The  most  of  people 
consider  me  a  saint,  even  to  the  minister." 

"That  may  be  ;  but  its  'cause  he  ain't  'quainted  like  I  am." 

"  You  flatter  me  exceedingly."  Then  turning  to  Mrs.  Tattum 
and  daughter,  "Be  on  hand' early,  as  soon  as  six." 

Next  morning  a  little  party  of  five, — Mrs.  Carlyle,  Mr.  Carl- 
ton,  Mrs.  Jenks,  Mrs.  Tattum  and  Augusta  (Minnie  could  not 
go  for  some  reason),  might  be  seen  seated  in  a  little  boat,  skim- 
ming over  the  smooth  surface  of  the  lake,  apparently  as  happy 
and  fearless  as  the  birds  around  them,  which  now  and  then 
touched  the  waves  with  their  golden  breasts,  as  they  winged 
their  flight  over  and  around  this  lovely  sheet  of  water,  while  the 
party  sang,  shouted  and  made  merry,  as  they  threw  in  their 
hooks  and  drew  up  the  living  treasures  of  the  deep — now  and 
then  a  spotted  bass,  then  a  pike  or  pickerel,  until  they  thought 
they  had  caught  enough  for  one  day,  when 'they  rowed  for  the  op- 
posite shore  to  procure  their  berries.  They  were  soon  there 
and  gathered  all  their  baskets  full,  and  were  returning  home, 
well  pleased  with  their  day's  work.  They  turned  out  of  their 
course,  however,  to  pluck  some  water  lilies,  Augusta  saying  she 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  309 

would  not  go  without  them;  for  these  she  designed  as  a -pres- 
ent to  the  minister's  wife,  for  whom  she  had  been  making  some 
of  the  same  kind  in  wax. 

"Oh!  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Carlyle,  "and  half  of  my  fish,  also 
berries,  will  go  to  the  same  place." 

"  Indeed!"  Mrs.  Tattum  answered;  "but  I  was  intending  to 
give  them  nearly  all  we  got ;  for  you  understand  he  favors  us 
very  much  whenever  we  get  in  a  tight  place." 

"  He  knows  we  are  too  good  to  do  anything  wrong,  mother," 
said  Augusta,  laughing — "gifts  are  binding." 

They  noticed  by  this  time  the  small,  black  cloud  that  had 
been  visible  in  the  west,  which  they  had  not  thought  worth 
heeding,  had  grown  very  large,  while  streaks  of  lightening 
had  commenced  darting  from  it,  one  after  the  other  in  rapid 
succession,  and  they  thought  best  to  pull  for  the  shore  with  all 
possible  alacrity  ;  but  the  winds  commenced  blowing  and  beat 
so  wildly  against  the  little  boat  they  could  not  make  much 
progress,  while  the  storm  beat  piteously  upon  their  unsheltered 
heads.  But  Mark  was  a  good  oarsman  and  had  been  out  upon 
larger  lakes  than  this,  in  rough  gales,  and  told  them  not  to  be 
frightened  ;  that  he  knew  he  could  bring  them  safely  to  land  ; 
to  trust  to  him :  but  when  they  lopked  upon  the  sheet  of  water, 
so  smooth  and  placid  in  the  morning,  {piled  up  with  fierce,  angry 
waves,  some  of  which  every  moment  threatened  to  upset  them, 
they  lost  all  confidence  in  human  aid,  and  dropped  upon  their 
knees  in  wild  terror,  asking  rescue  and  pardon  for  all  those  ter- 
rible sins  they  had  committed,  which  now  in  this  hour  of  agony 
and  death,  arose  before  them  in  all  of  their  true  and  real  light ; 
and  there  was  no  show,  no  hypocrisy,  in  those  burning  words 
that  fell  from  that  party,  who  so  soon  expected  to  sink  beneath 
those  turbulent  waves,  while  a  voice  seemed  to  their  disturbed 
consciences  to  whisper,  "As  ye  sow,  so  shall  ye  reap."  And 
they  could  no,t  but  feel,  that,  if  they  were  lost,  it  was  but  a  just 
retribution  for  all  their  past  follies  and  sins ;  and  thought  that 


3IO  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

if  they  ever  reached  shore  they  would  make  some  confession — 
would  lead  an  entirely  different  life. 

"If  I  could  only  manage  to  get  out  of  these  troughs,"  Mark 
said,  "and  face  toward  land,  then  I  might  succeed  in  bringing 
the  craft  through." 

Just  as  these  words  were  spoken,  another  wave  swept  over 
them  ;  the  boat  was  overturned,  and  all  for  a  few  moments  were 
lost  to  sight.  Then  wild  cries  for  help,  mingled  with  the  dirge- 
like  tones  of  the  fierce  storm,  being  heard  only  by  Him  into 
whose  ears,  as  a  last  recourse  for  salvation  from  a  watery  grave, 
they  had  poured  forth  their  prayers  in  sincerity,  with  a  faint 
hope  of  pardon  after  a  whole  life  spent  in  cruel  mockery  of 
those  great  truths  that  Christ  came  into  the  world  to  establish 
— a  hollow  profession  of  religion  without  the  shadow  of  reality; 
and  what  was  worse,  by  their  unchristian  example,  been  the 
means  of  turning  many  poor  sinners  from  the  cross — from  leav- 
ing the  ways  of  sin  for  those  of  righteousness.  But  they  all 
went  down  at  last,  excepting  Mark,  who  succeeded  in  clinging 
to  the  boat  until  the  storm  passed  ;  and  then,  being  an  expert 
swimmer,  through  the  greatest  exertion  gained  the  shore. 

Toward  eventide  the  next  day,  the  bodies  were  found  and 
conveyed  to  their  homes.  The  grief  of  the  heart-stricken  fami- 
lies and  relatives  can  be  imagined,  perhaps,  but  not  told.  Even 
Deacon  Smith  and  wife,  and  Mrs.  Col.  Thompson  were  deeply 
moved,  as  they  gazed  upon  the  lifeless  forms  of  those  whom 
they  had  once  so  despised,  who  had  been  capable  of  doing  them 
all  so  great  a  wrong,  but  whose  lips  could  never  again  utter  un- 
truths ;  and  if  they  had  revealed  their  thoughts  as  they  turned 
away  from  the  house  of  death,  which  seemed  so  solemn — so  sad 
— they  would  each  in  his  turn  have  whispered,  "I  forgive  you." 
And  shall  we,  can  we.  would  we  say,  that  the  ears  of  Jehovah 
had  not  been  opened  to  their  entreaties  ?  that  He,  the  Father, 
the  friend,  to  all  the  fallen  ones  of  earth ;  to  the  lowly,  to  the 
poor,  as  well  as  the  rich,  could  not  be  as  merciful?  We  com- 
mit their  souls  into  the  hands  of  Him  who  doeth  all  things 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  31 1 

well.  The  ways  of  Providence  are  mysterious  and  past  finding 
out,  and  who  knows  but  His  all  discerning  eye  discovered,  in 
this  judgment,  the  only  way  of  bringing  those  sinners  to  true 
repentance  and  Heaven  at  last? 

Minnie,  overburdened  with  grief,  sought  consolation  at  the 
foot  of  the  cross.  Here  she  found  her  Saviour  ready  to  bless 
her,  and  through  her  happy  experience,  felt  that  it  was  not  so 
hard,  after  all,  to  tread  those  sweet  paths  of  peace  and  holi- 
ness. All  that  was  required,  was  to  obey  the  commands  of 
God  and  to  heed  the  Spirit's  warning  voice  whenever  it  spoke 
to  her  soul.  "This  is  the  way,  walk  ye  in  it." 

Her  father,  hitherto  an  unbeliever  in  Christianity,  began  to 
feel  that  anything  that  could  transform  the  nature  of  a  person 
as  Minnie's  had  been  since  the  death  of  her  friends,  must  be 
real ;  and,  after  he  had  seen  her  go  about  so  patiently  bearing 
life's  burdens,  and  sacrificing  herself  for  the  good  of  others,  at- 
tending to  all  his  wants,  proving  herself  to  be  a  true  and  duti- 
ful daughter,  he  abstained  from  drunkenness,  and  asked  to  be 
taught  the  ways  of  life ;  and,  as  he  ever  after  until  his  death 
— which  occurred  in  about  two  years — lived  up  to  the  highest 
light  of  which  his  uncultured  mind  was  susceptible,  we  have 
no  doubt  but  the  judgment  day  will  disclose  his  robes  washed 
and  made  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb. 


312  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

Sammie  Wilmington  has  succeeded  one  of  the  deceased  part- 
ners in  the  firm  of  Mayville  &  Co.  His  indefatigable  industry, 
honesty,  polished  manners,  and  truly  gentlemanly  deportment 
since  he  came  to  the  establishment,  won  for  him  the  situation, 
as  well  as  the  good  will  of  all  therein  concerned.  He  is  a 
favorite  of  the  beautiful  and  accomplished  daughter  of  the  sen- 
ior partner,  Mr.  Mayville,  to  whose  elegant  mansion  he  is  often 
an  invited  guest,  where  they  play  upon  the  piano  and  sing  by 
the  hour  together,  he  always  choosing  the  pathetic,  sometimes 
the  really  melancholy,  as  these  accord  so  fully  and  truly  with 
his  own  feelings — she  the  gay,  dashing,  charming  airs  that  find 
so  ready  a  response  in  her  own  happy  heart  and  lively  imagi- 
nation, and  wonders  at  the  strange  taste  of  her  friend. 

One  evening  playfully  inquiring  of  him  why  he  was  always 
gathering  together  and  selecting  all  the  solemn  pieces  from  her 
music,  he  replied  after  her  own  manner,  not  caring  to  have  her 
read  any  of  his  sad  history  through  any  of  his  own  careless  words 
or  acts  : 

"  For  very  contrast,  Miss  Mayville,  with  your  own  inspiring, 
bewitching  and  brilliant  songs.  Does  the  setting  sun  lose 
aught  of  its  glory  by  occasionally  going  from  our  sight  beneath 
the  blackest  clouds  ?  Do  not  the  flowers  send  forth  more  fra- 
grance by  sometimes  being  drenched  in  the  rain?  And 
may  not  our  lives  become  better  by  accustoming  ourselves 
to  its  sorrows  as  well  as  joys — even  to  the  tracing  out  the  his- 
tory of  some  poor  unfortunate  who  has  lived  to  see  every  lin- 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  313 

gering  ray  of  hope  die  out  of  his  breast?  While  we  can  love 
the  day  with  all  its  light  and  beauty,  yet  we  could  not  well  do 
without  its  counterpart,  the  night,  when  we  seek  our  rest  and 
sleep,  and  enjoy  the  keen  pleasures,  oftentimes,  of  delicious 
visions.  Then  it  is  our  loved  ones  come  back  to  earth  and  con- 
verse with  us,  those  we  have  laid  away  in  the  chilling  grave  ;  and 
we  live  again  the  happy  days  of  the  past  in  their  sweet  society ; 
we  are  children  sometimes,  roaming  through  wildwood  and 
glen  in  quest  of  the  gay  butterfly  with  its  gorgeous  wings,  and 
drinking  happiness  as  freely  as  the  air  we  breathe ;  or  the  but- 
tercups beneath  our  feet,  the  invigorating  dew.  It  takes  the 
sorrows,  the  crosses  of  life,  to  give  us  a  keen  relish  for  its 
pleasures." 

Miss  Mayville  did  not  reply ;  but  commenced  reading  aloud  : 

"  Come  back,  ye  gay  tints  of  the  morning 

That  shone  on  my  childhood, 

So  richly  the  hillside  adorning, 

The  mosses,  the  wildwood; 

Breathing  love,  breathing  life,  to  the  young  bubbling  fountain, 
The  fresh  bursting  buds  on  the  crest  of  the  mountain, 
Or  the  sunflower,  even,  that  grew  at  my  door, 
That  life-giving  influence  thou  deignedst  to  pour. 
Onward,  onward,  thy  course  o'er  land  and  o'er  sea, 
While  the  world,  smiling,  gave  a  welcome  to  thee. 
How  now,  gentle  light,  if  ye  e'er  come  at  all 
To  my  hearth,  to  my  home,  so  dimly  ye  fall? 

It  is  not  but  each  morning  I  shine  just  the  same 

On  the  palace,  and  cottage,  and  hut  in  the  lane; 

But  thine  eyes  have  grown  dim  by  the  reason  of  weeping. 

Deep  shadows  of  woe  to  thy  dreary  life  creeping, 

Shutting  out  from  thy  care-stricken  heart,  gentle  one, 

All  the  beauteous  rays  of  the  bright  morning  sun!" 

"  Some  of  those  sentiments  are  quite  true,  Miss  Mayville. 
People  are  apt  to  imagine  there  are  fewer  joys  in  the  present, 
and  are  continually  fault-finding  and  wondering  why  it  is  so, 
never  thinking  that  the  selfishness  of  their  natures,  nursed  for 
many  a  long  year,  has  at  last  become  a  bar  to  shut  away  the 
sunlight  of  happiness  that  they  have  themselves  experienced 


314  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

before  their  dispositions  soured,  and  they  had  encased  in  this 
coat  of  steel  all  their  best  and  noblest  feelings — true  sympathy 
and  love  for  mankind." 

"  So  our  own  actions  are  the  means  of  bringing  us  pleasure 
or  misery  ?  Ah !  a  great  deal  of  heart-rending  anguish  comes 
to  us  often  that  we  could  not  have  averted,  even  had  we 
seen  it  beforehand.  Man  is  born  to  trouble.  You  never  saw 
me  shed  a  tear,  never  otherwise  than  happy,  and  think  I  am  not 
capable  of  sympathetic  thought  or  feeling — have  nothing  in 
common  with  those  less  blessed  than  myself,  with  home  and 
friends." 

"And  wealth  and  luxuries  and  everything  possible  to  bring 
joy  to  a  person,  who,  like  you,  has  just  launched,  as  it  were, 
his  bark  on  the  silver-crested  spray  of  life's  glittering  sea. 
No,  no,  Miss  Mayville  I  know  you  better  than  you  think.  You 
are  not  the  thoughtless  devotee  of  fashion  for  which  some  might 
take  you  ;  for  underneath  all  this,  you  have  a  heart  that  beats  in 
true  sympathy  with  the  fallen  and  crushed  ones  of  earth.  That 
shabbily  dressed  child  that  you  fed  and  clothed  but  yesterday 
could  corroborate  my  words." 

"  How  did  you  know  anything  about  that?  " 

"She  was  hurt  down  here  as  she  attempted  to  cross  the 
street.  I  took  her  in  my  arms  and  carried  her  over.  She  could 
not  walk  home,  and  I  ordered  a  hackman  to  drive  to  her  quar- 
ters. I  went  along  fearing  she  might  be  more  seriously  injured 
than  was  thought  for.  She  told  me  her  little  story."  After  a 
few  moments'  pause  in  the  conversation,  he  said,  "  Would  you 
not  like  to  take  a  ride  to-morrow  morning?  I  am  up  usually 
very  early  and  walk  several  miles  before  going  to  my  business  ; 
but  thought  I  would  change  the  order,  that  is,  if  you  would 
accompany  me." 

"  But  it  must  be  after  my  fleet  and  beautiful  coal  black  steeds, 
and  myself  the  driver,  eh?"  and  she  looked  so  irresistible  he 
felt  that  he  could  scarcely  refuse  her  anything  she  might  ask ; 
and  so  he  said  : 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  3  I  5 

"Any  way  to  please  you,  Miss  Mayville  ;  I  have  no  will  in 
the  matter." 

"Then  we  will  drive  to  Summerset  Castle  on  the  Thames,  a 
magnificent  old  country-seat  owned  by  Lord  Parloe,  who  has 
become  very  old  and  feeble  and  is  not  expected  to  survive  a 
great  while.  Papa  tells  quite  a  romantic  little  incident  that  is 
said  to  have  taken  place  years  ago  at  that  castle.  They  had  a 
young  and  lovely  daughter  whom  they  nearly  idolized,  who  fell 
in  love  with  a  gentleman  beneath  her  rank,  to  whom  she  was 
forbidden  to  speak  on  penalty  of  being  made  a  prisoner  within 
ts  walls.  She  found  means,  however,  as  any  true-hearted  girl 
might  if  she  chose,  and  not  only  communicated  with  her  lover, 
ibut  held  clandestine  meetings.  Her  father  found  it  out,  and 
actually  locked  her  in  her  own  room,  never  allowing  her  out 
except  with  an  attendant.  The  lover  being  informed  how  matters 
stood,  bribed  a  servant  to  bear  a  note  to  her,  asking  her  to  elope 
with  him  on  a  certain  night ;  and  told  her  just  how  to  manage, 
which  was,  I  believe,  to  let  herself  down  from  a  window  with  a 
rope  that  he  had  sent  to  the  top  of  a  ladder,  which  he  had 
placed  beneath,  where  he  would  stand  to  receive  her  in  his  arms, 
assist  her  down,  and  then  they  would  fly  together  to  parts  un- 
known, and  so  be  rid  of  their  cruel  tormentors.  In  this  she  ful- 
ly acquiesced,  and,  although  it  was  many  a  long  year  ago,  they 
have  never  heard  from  her  since." 

"  And  they  made  no  search?" 

"Oh,  yes,  were  nearly  distracted;  and  had  detectives  out 
looking  for  the  missing  pair,  but  all  to  no  avail.  All  that  they 
could  gather  was,  that  they  were  married  by  an  obscure  curate 
at  his  residence,  in  the  presence  of  two  or  three  witnesses  who 
happened  to  be  there  at  the  time." 

"And  gave  their  real. names?" 

' '  Yes,  but  their  disguise  was  so  perfect  that,  although  he  had 
often  heard  of  them  both,  took  them  for  peasants,  or,  so  he 
said ;  probably  the  truth  being  that  he  was  bribed,  and  it  was 
all  understood  between  them  beforehand." 


3l6  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

When  she  had  finished  speaking,  Sammie  was  as  pale  as  death, 
and  felt  that  he  had  been  listening  to  a  tale  more  interesting  to 
him  than  he  would  care  to  have  her  know,  and  went  back  to 
his  own  home  with  a  determination  to  sift  the  matter  to  the 
very  bottom ;  for  he  fully  believed  that  he  had  a  clew  that  would 
help  him  unravel  the  mysteries  that  had  hung  over  his  early  life, 
and  when,  in  the  morning,  they  rode  past  the  magnificent  old 
castle,  and  saw  an  aged  pair  sitting  on  the  upper  piazza  in  earn- 
est conversation,  he  felt  his  heart  strangely  warming  toward 
them ;  for  something  told  him  he  looked  upon  his  own  grand- 
parents, and  he  longed  to  clasp  them  both  in  a  fond  embrace; 
show  them  the  miniature  that  he  still  wore  next  his  heart,  and 
tell  them  all  he  knew  about  their  beautiful  but  truant  daugh- 
ter. But  pride  then  came  to  his  aid,  and  he  thought  that  he 
never  would  give  them  an  opportunity  to  repulse  him  as  they 
undoubtedly  would  on  his  father's  account. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  317 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

Sammie  Wilmington  is  now  in  good  circumstances,  sur- 
rounded with  a  host  of  friends,  and  has  no  reason  to  waste  time, 
poring  over  any  former  troubles,  or  passing  sleepless  nights 
on  the  account  of  his  ungratified  boyish  wishes.  If  he  had 
loved  Blanche  and  she  had  turned  the  cold  shoulder  upon  him, 
if  she  had  been  so  unstable  in  her  affections,  which  her  haste  to 
censure  him  had  proven,  that  was  no  reason  why  there  were  not 
other  bright  eyes  in  the  world  as  well  as  hers,  and  that  would 
shine  with  more  steady  light  if  their  hearts  were  enlisted. 

Belle  Mayville  was  very  sweet  and  bewitching  with  her  slight 
form,  mild  blue  eyes,  and  golden  hair  which  she  usually  did 
up  in  a  soft  coil  upon  her  head,  or  let  fall  in  a  large  braid  down 
her  hack,  sometimes  looping  it  up  with  a  lovely  pin  made  of 
solid  gold,  in  the  form  of  a  large  cross  and  set  with  costly 
diamonds.  When  had  he  seen  so  inspiring  a  vision  as  she, 
when  he  last  visited  her,  the  next  evening  after  their  ride  to 
Summerset  Castle?  who  might  very  well  remind  one  of  a  fairy 
rather  than  a  human  being  as  she  sat  by  the  side  of  him,  en- 
gaged in  conversation,  dressed  in  a  light  airy  robe  of  pure 
white,  in  full  blaze  of  the  light  of  the  chandelier  that  shone  out 
every  evening  and  illumined  the  grand  parlors  of  her  father's 
elegant  mansion.  But  although  Sammie  loved  the  society  of 
this  dear  girl,  he  did  not  look  upon  her  in  the  light  that  the 
reader  might  imagine,  perhaps.  She  permitted  him  to  call  her 
sister ;  and  he  felt  life  would  be  far  more  drear  without  her ;  yet 


3l8  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

his  former  love  was  not  so  fully  obliterated  but  the  germs 
still  remained,  which  only  needed  a  little  light  and  nursing  to 
cause  to  spring  forth  once  again  into  fresh  and  beautiful  blos- 
soms ;  and  although  he  tried  to  erase  her  image,  he  found  that 
there  it  was  in  spite  of  all  other  visions  in  which  grace,  refine- 
ment, or  wealth  were  so  deeply  mixed,  and  was  likely  to 
remain,  when  even  the  names  of  the  proud  heiress  or  captivat- 
ing belles  of  the  gay  city  of  London  were  entirely  forgotten. 

Jt  was  a  holiday,  and  Sammie  thought  he  would  take  a  stroll 
away  by  himself;  so  he  turned  his  footsteps  toward  Summerset 
Castle  ;  for,  although  he  never  intended  to  make  himself  known 
to  its  inmates,  yet  there  was  a  strange  fascination  about  this 
place ;  and  it  would  have  been  pleasure  beyond  what  he  ever 
expected  to  enjoy  to  roam  within  the  enclosure  of  those  sacred 
grounds,  or  to  sit  within  those  walls  that  had  once  resounded 
with  the  merry  laughter  of  his  darling,  who  was  now  sleeping 
the  peaceful  sleep  of  death  in  a  far  off  land. 

He  had  walked  within  a  mile  of  this  place,  when  he  saw  horses 
attached  to  an  elegant  carriage  running  toward  him  with  all 
possible  speed.  On,  on  they  madly,  wildly  dashed,  until  within 
a  few  rods  of  him,  when,  without  waiting  to  think  of  the  conse- 
quences, he  jumped  directly  in  front  of  them,  grasped  each  by 
his  bits,  vainly  thinking  to  arrest  them  in  their  course  ;  but 
they  were  strong  and  powerful,  and  wild  from  fright,  and  in  a 
moment,  loosing  themselves,  they  sped  on  until  coming  to  a 
tree  the  carriage  ran  against  it  and  was  overturned.  Sammie 
was  left  behind  in  the  road,  senseless,  and  to  all  appearances  a 
mangled  corpse.  The  coachman  just  in  sight  was  soon  there 
and  on  his  knees,  hat  in  hand,  meekly  asking  forgiveness  for 
the  accident,  and  promising  to  do  better  in  the  future.  The 
inmates  of  the  carriage,  Lord  and  Lady  Parloe,  who  had  only 
been  very  slightly  injured,  in  a  moment  had  alighted  and  were 
hovering  about  the  stranger,  who  had  come  to  such  a  shocking 
death,  pitifully  bewailing  his  sad  fate,  when  a  slight  twitching 
of  the  lips  told  them  life  was  not  as  yet  extinct  ;  and  after  the 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  319 

carriage  was  righted  and  things  restored  to  order,  a  pillow  was 
made  of  one  of  the  cushions  for  the  bruised  head,  and  he  was 
placed  inside  the  coach,  where  they,  too,  entered,  after  having 
given  orders  to  the  coachman  to  drive  with  all  possible  dispatch 
to  the  castle,  and  then  go  quickly  for  a  physician. 

Arriving  there,  he  was  carried  in  and  laid  upon  a  bed,  and 
everything  done  to  restore  him  to  consciousness,  when,  after 
hours  of  faithful  perseverance,  he  awakened  from  his  death-like 
stupor  and  opened  his  eyes,  though  still  in  that  dreamy,  bewil- 
dered state  that  one  often  feels  between  waking  and  sleeping, 
without  any  distinct  knowledge  of  anything  that  was  passing 
around  him ;  and  it  was  several  days  before  he  seemed  to  realize 
his  situation,  not  even  knowing  then  where  he  was,  or  for  just 
what  reason  he  was  prostrated  on  this  bed,  unable  to  move  or 
rise  to  his  feet.  He  could  see  enough,  however,  to  know  he  was 
surrounded  with  all  the  elegance  that  wealth  could  bring — 
books,  statuary,  pictures,  and  mirrors  that  reached  from  the  ceil- 
ing nearly  to  the  floor,  costly  carpets,  and  beautifully  frescoed 
walls,  while  the  gentle  zephyr's  breath  wafted  to  his  partially 
benumbed  senses  the  delicious  aroma  of  flowers  through  open 
windows  and  closed  blinds. 

But  he  was  not  likely  to  remain  in  ignorance  a  great  while ; 
for  Lady  Parloe,  who  had  been  much  interested,  and  attracted 
to  him  from  the  first  sight  for  the  chivalrous  deed  he  had  done 
at  the  risk  of  his  own  life,  had  staid  in  the  room  most  of  the 
time  since  he  had  been  brought  thither,  to  see  that  every  want 
should  be  gratified,  and  to  watch  with  a  mother's  loving  care  a 
return  of  reason,  and  strength,  and  life;  if,  indeed,  he  could  be 
restored,  which  the  doctor  said  was  doubtful ;  and  only  the  best 
nursing  would  bring  him  through  alive.  And  now,  discerning 
his  curiosity,  she  slipped  up  to  his  bedside  and  told  him  all  the 
circumstances  that  had  brought  him  hither,  and  bade  him  not 
to  fear ;  that  he  would  soon  be  able  to  sit  up,  then  go  out  on 
the  gounds  to  walk— till  then,  his  comfort  should  be  paramount 
in  her  thoughts.  A  week  or  more  passed.  He  was  now  so  far 


32O  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

recovered  as  to  be  able  to  walk  to  the  window  with  assistance, 
and  sit  for  an  hour  or  more :  and  as  he  watched  the  boats  glid- 
ing over  the  beautiful  Thames,  and  looked  about  upon  the 
scenery,  he  could  not  help  thinking  of  a  time  long  gone  by,  when 
other  eyes,  and  those  his  own  blessed  mother's,  had  felt  the 
same  enthusiasm  as  himself;  and  taking  out  her  miniature,  he 
gazed  long  and  sadly  upon  it,  wishing  from  his  inmost  heart 
that  the  dear  old  lady  to  whose  tenderness  he  owed  his  life  knew 
just  the  relationship  that  existed  between  them.  He  was  start- 
led from  his  reverie,  however,  by  the  approach  of  one  of  the 
servants,  bearing  a  picture  in  his  hands.  A  few  changes  were 
to  be  made  in  the  rooms,  and  this  was  ordered  to  be  hung  up 
at  the  foot  of  his  bed.  It  was  a  large  oil  painting  of  a  young 
and  lovely  girl  of  about  sixteen ;  and,  as  the  eyes  of  Sammie 
wandered  to  it,  he  uttered  a  scream  of  delight  and  surprise,  for 
it  was  his  mother's  portrait ;  he  knew  he  could  not  be  mistaken, 
and  in  his,  excitement  he  dropped  the  little  jeweled  locket  he 
held  in  his  hand. 

Lady  Parloe  coming  in  at^  this  moment,  espied  it,  and  ap- 
proaching him,  opened  it. 

It  was  now  her  turn  to  be  surprised.  Trembling  with  agita- 
tion, scarcely  able  to  control  herself,  she  hurried  to  him  with 
the  inquiry:  "  Where  did  this  come  from?"  Then  placing  it 
to  her  lips,  while  tears  commenced  to  flow  freely,  and  run  down 
her  furrowed  cheek,  ' '  Oh !  I  remember  so  well  a  birthday  gift  to 
Frederica,  my  lost  darling,  my  pet,  my  beautiful  child.  But 
where,  oh,  where  did  you  get  it?" 

Sammie  now  felt  that  the  time  had  come  when  he  must  make 
explanations,  or  sink  in  the  estimation  of  those  people  who  had 
deigned  to  show  him  such  consideration  ;  and  keeping  nothing 
back,  he  told  her  his  whole  history,  and  showed  her  the  diary 
with  which  the  reader  was  'made  acquainted  in  a  preceding 
chapter. 

"Your  looks  might  have  told  me  as  much,"  she  said,  "and 
although  indefinable  feelings  arose  all  the  time,  saying  the 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  321 

blood  of  the  Parloes  run  in  your  veins,  I  did  not  heed  them ; 
for  I  did  not  see  how  it  could  be.  But  I  believe  all  you  have 
told  me,  and  henceforth  you  shall  be  as  a  son  to  me." 

She  then  went  to  the  room  of  her  husband,  carrying  with  her 
these  proofs  she  had  in  her  possession  respecting  Sammie,  and 
asked  him  if  he  could  not  forgive  his  daughter  for  her  undutiful 
act,  and  take  her  child  to  his  heart  and  home. 

"Certainly,"  he  replied,  "but  not  until  a  more  thorough 
investigation  of  matters.  You  know  there  is  so  much  decep- 
tion in  the  world.  He  might  turn  out  another  '  Baronet's  son.'  " 

' '  And  then  if  you  knew  for  reality  that  he  is  indeed  her  own 
child — our  precious,  sweet,  dear,  lost  Frederica?" 

"He  is  then  our  heir,  and  successor  to  Summerset  Castle," 
he  said  enthusiastically. 

She  had  feared  that  pride  would  stand  in  his  way,  and  that 
he  would  refuse  to  recognize  the  offspring  of  a  man  whom  he 
had  considered  beneath  them  ;  and  her  susceptible  woman's 
heart  was  so  happy  when  she  found  he  was  willing  to  give  up 
former  prejudices  and  recognize  the  young  stranger.  He  seeing 
her  feelings,  immediately  said,  "  Do  not  allow  your  expecta- 
tions to  arise  too  high  as  regards  this  young  man.  I  must  be- 
come acquainted  with  his  antecedents,  know  all  about  his  char- 
acter and  reputation  he  now  bears :  we  must  not  allow  ourselves 
to  be  deceived." 

"That  is  easy  told.  An  inquiry  of  the  firm  of  '  Mayville  & 
Co.,'  will  show  us  all  we  wish  to  know  in  that  direction.  He 
said  he  was  partner ;  you  remember  Mr.  Mayville  has  been  to 
see  him  several  times." 

"I  know,  I  know — presume  it  is  all  right;  and  oh,  how 
blessed,"  he  thought  after  she  had  left  the  room,  "to  have  a 
son  once-  more!  too  good  to  be  true.  Poor  Frederica!  little 
lost  darling,  how  sad  her  fate  !  "  and  here  he  groaned  aloud,  as 
the  past  came  rushing  upon  him  with  all  its  vivid  reality ;  but 
he  quieted  his  excited  feelings  as  soon  as  possible;  for  he  knew 


322  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

that  in  his  feeble  condition  he  must  be  calm  or  take  to  a  sick 
bed,  from  which  it  were  doubtful  if  he  would  ever  again  rise. 

An  investigation  was  soon  made,  and  not  a  stone  left  unturned 
to  get  at  the  truth  of  all  that  they  had  heard. 

Once  satisfied  that  there  had  been  no  deception  practiced  on 
the  part  of  him  of  whom  they  heard  such  favorable  reports, 
they  desired  him  to  settle  up  his  affairs  with  the  firm  of  May- 
ville  &  Go.,  come  to  Summerset  Castle,  and  live  with  them  al- 
together ;  recognizing  him  at  once  as  the  rightful  heir  of  all  that 
belonged  to  them. 

Two  months  later,  and  Summerset  Castle  was  literally 
covered  with  crape  ;  long  columns  of  all  the  leading  newspapers 
were  devoted  to  an  obituary  notice  of  the  deceased  Lord  Parloe, 
while  all  who  knew  him  mourned  for  him  as  for  a  dear  friend — 
all  the  servants  gathering  themselves  together  every  evening  for 
a  long  time  afterwards,  talking  over  the  good  qualities  of  their 
late  master,  and  weeping  as  many  would  not  for  a  father. 

On  the  demise  of  Lord  Parloe,  with  the  exception  of  a  large 
yearly  annuity  that  was  to  go  to  sustain  several  different  institu- 
tions of  charity,  another  for  the  church  of  which  he  was  a 
member,  then  a  library  that  he  had  established,  not  forget- 
ting all  of  his  faithful  servants  that  had  been  in  his  employ  so 
many  years ;  Sammie  became  heir  of  all  his  wealth,  which 
amounted  to  several  millions  ;  and  right  glad  was  Lady  Parloe 
to  have  so  competent  an  arm  upon  which  to  lean  in  her  old  age, 
so  good  a  counsellor  as  she  found  in  him — honest,  true,  and 
kind-hearted  to  the  last. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  323 


CHAPTER  LV. 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ashton,  Lavarre,  Pa.,  U.  S.  A." 

"  What  does  this  mean?"  said  Sammie,  as  he  glanced  at  a 
card  handed  him  by  one  of  the  bell  boys  at  the  Grand  Park 
Hotel,  where  he  was  a  boarder,  whereon  were  inscribed  the 
above  names. 

"  Friends,  sah,  down  in  the'pahlah,  wishing  to  see  you,sah," 
the  servant  answered  meekly. 

Without  waiting  to  ask  anymore  questions,  Sammie  hastened 
to  the  large  reception  room,  and  was  soon  face  to  face  with 
those  whom  of  all  the  world,  (with  one  exception,  whose  name 
we  will  leave  the  reader  to  guess)  he  was  the  most  delighted  to 
see — the  friends  of  his  childhood  and  youth ;  who  in  all  the 
trying  hours  of  his  sorrows  never  came  in  contact  with  him 
but  gave  him  a  word  of  cheer  and  bade  him  hope  for  a  bright 
future. 

Charlie  Clayton  had  come  to  London,  too,  on  very  import- 
ant business,  for  an  extensive  manufactory  of  some  kind  where 
he  had  been  employed  for  several  years  at  a  large  salary,  and  now 
desiring  to  establish  a  branch  business  in  a  foreign  country  they 
knew  of  no  one  with  whom  they  felt  they  could  so  well  intrust 
matters  as  with  him ;  and  in  looking  over  the  advertisements 
in  one  of  the  leading  papers  after  his  arrival,  he  noticed  the 
name  of  Sammie  Wilmington,  and  called  the  attention  of  his 
friends  to  it,  not  thinking  for  a  moment  that  it  could  be  one 
and  the  same  gentleman  with  whom  he  had  once  been  so  well 


324  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

acquainted.  But  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ashton  thought  it  quite  prob- 
able ;  as  they  always  had  a  good  opinion  of  his  abilities  to  push 
his  own  way  among  the  very  best;  and  so,  ascertaining  his 
boarding  place,  thought  they  would  call,  and  were  as  much 
gratified  to  see  him  as  though  he  had  been  of  near  kin  to  them, 
and  heartily  pleased  to  think,  in  spite  of  all  opposition,  he 
should  so  far  exceed  their  expectations. 

They  chatted  for  an  hour  or  more,  Mrs.  Ashton  expecting 
something  would  be  said  about  Blanche,  and  was  prepared  to 
tell  him  all  she  knew,  and  if  possible,  to  effect  a  reconciliation 
between  them,  and  bring  them  together  once  more.  But,  as 
Sammie  did  not  mention  her  name,  she  hardly  knew  *how  to 
commence.  Finally  she  said,  "You  did  ;not  know  Charlie 
Clayton  accompanied  us,  and  is  now  in  the  city?" 

Sammie  turned  pale  and  became  terribly  agitated  upon  hear- 
ing once  more  that  familiar  name ;  but  striving  to  keep  back  the 
deep  feelings  that  it  had  aroused,  he  answered  calmly,  "And 
why  did  he  not  call  ?  or  has  the  hatred  of  the  father  extended 
to  him?" 

"  He  thinks  you  treated  his  sister  shabbily,  and  says  he  wants 
nothing  to  do  with  such  a  person." 

"Then  he  does  not  know  of  the  letter?  Perhaps  none  of 
you  do?  " 

"  We  know  all  about  it ;  have  heard  Walter  Clayton  laugh 
over  his  trick  several  times.  Blanche  never  wrote  it — a  forgery 
of  his." 

"What!  what!"  Sammie  scarcely  knew  what  he  said  or 
did ;  for  a  new  revelation  had  dawned  upon  his  bewildered 
senses  ;  but  before  they  were  scarcely  aware,  he  had  been  to 
his  trunk  and  brought  down  the  time-stained,  tear-blotted  mis- 
sive and  handed  to  them  to  peruse.  "  Is  not  that  her  auto- 
graph?" 

"A  close  resemblance,  but  not  her's.  Oh,  if  you  knew  of 
all  her  sorrow  on  your  account !  She  is  not  the  same  girl  she 
was  five  years  ago.  Then  the  roses  faded  from  her  cheeks,  and 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  335 

people  thought  she  was  going  into  a  decline  which  would  wind 
up  her  days.  She  has  never  been  well  since  you  left  for  parts 
unknown." 

"  Did  she  hear  of  her  father's  baseness?" 

"She  found  it  out  lately,  I  believe,  and  I  think  had  she 
known  your  address,  would  have  written  you." 

"And  not  married?  Loves  me  still?  Tell  me  truly,  Mrs. 
Ashton.  Oh  !  I  never  expected  to  hear  so  much." 

"We  are  intimate  friends.  She  trusts  me  with  all  her 
secrets,  and  I  know  you  have  never  been  forgotten." 

"I  will  write  immediately  and  tell  her  all.  No,  this  will  not 
do  ;  for  her  father  will  intercept  my  letters ;  this  would  make 
more  trouble  for  Blanche." 

"  I  will  be  glad  to  make  necessary  explanations ;  for  it  will 
make  her  so  happy,  I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Ashton. 

But  it  was  too  long  for  Sammie  to  wait ;  the  mails  would  be 
all  too  slow ;  so  next  morning  he  informed  his  friends  that  busi- 
ness called  him  away  for  a  few  weeks  to  his  old  home,  Lavarre. 
After  taking  fond  leave  of  his  dear  old  grandmother,  telling 
her  all,  and  getting  her  to  consent  to  his  plans,  he  set  sail  the 
next  day  for  America. 

"  Is  the  boy  insane?  "  enquired  Mr.  Ashton  of  his  wife,  "  to 
go  away  so  soon,  and  not  so  much  as  say  goodby?" 

"Indeed,  you  wrong  him ;  for  he  was  at  our  rooms  several 
times  to  see  us  ;  but  you  were  out." 

"A  little  love  affair;  hope  really  it  will  not  turn  his  brain. 
Well,  joy  go  with  him,  and  success  crown  his  visit.  Blanche  is 
a  dear,  good  girl." 

"And  as  deeply  enlisted  as  himself.  But  how  will  he  get 
along  with  the  father?  There  will  be  trouble  again.  Look  at 
that  article,"  handing  him  a  newspaper,  in  which  the  whole 
matter  was  made  public  about  the  will  of  Lord  Parloe,  the 
newly  found  heir,  etc.,  to  Summerset  Castle  and  all  that  be- 
longed to  the  late  master,  with  a  few  exceptions. 

"  If  old  Walter  just  knew  of  this,  he  would  be  as  meek  as  a 


326  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

kitten,  and  coaxing  and  sweet  as  a  puppy  for  a  bone.  Other- 
wise— I  pity  Sammie. " 

1 '  Everybody  is  talking  of  the  good  fortune  that  has  so  lately 
come  to  this  stranger,  as  they  call  him ;  but  Sammie  Wilming- 
ton is  not  the  one  to  cringe  to  Walter  Clayton,  nor  even  to  tell 
him  anything.  I  wonder  how  he  will  get  along  with  him  ?  " 

"  I  would  like  to  be  a  mouse  in  the  wall  and  here  all  that  is 
said." 

"  I've  hit  on  a  good  plan  !  Send  all  these  different  papers  to 
the  old  mammon  worshiper,  and  write  him  a  letter  about  what 
you  have  seen  and  heard.  It  will  save  time  and  trouble." 

"He  might  not  believe;  and  I  hate  to  interfere  in  other 
people's  matters.  But  it  shall  be  as  you  think  best.  I  presume, 
however,  he  would  not  like  Blanche  to  know  of  this  streak  of 
luck  until  he  sees  her,  and  hears  from  her  own  lips  a  renewal  of 
those  vows  of  former  days." 

"Lest  she  should  marry  him  for  money?  Oh,  Sammie 
knows  her  too  well.  Did  she  not  love  him  and  promise  to 
become  his  wife,  when  a  poor  lad  ?" 

The  letter  was  written  and  dispatched  with  all  other  proof 
that  could  be  obtained,  and  reached  their  destination  one  week 
in  advance  of  Sammie,  he  being  detained  that  length  of  time  in 
New  York  on  account  of  sickness ;  and  when  he  arrived  at 
Lavarre  Walter  Clayton  was  the  first  to  take  his  hand  and  wel- 
come him,  saying,  "I  was  hasty,  Mr.  Wilmington,  in  our  fray 
of  years  ago,  and  am  really  sorry  that  we  ever  had  any  trouble  ; 
but  I  see  things  in  a  different  light  from  what  I  used  to.  You 
must  give  us  a  call.  How  long  do  you  intend  to  remain  at 
Lavarre  ?  " 

Sammie  wondered,  but  thought  that,  as  changes  oftentimes 
came  over  people  for  the  better,  perhaps  Mr.  Clayton  was 
one  of  that  sort,  not  attributing  his  blandness  to  the  right 
cause,  for  he  thought  he  never  could  have  found  out  about  his 
good  fortune,  as  he  nor  any  person  else  there  knew  of  his 
whereabouts  since  he  had  left  the  home  of  his  childhood. " 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  3  27 

Walter  Clayton  went  home  and  told  Blanche  that  Sammie 
Wilmington  had  arrived  ;  that  he  had  grown  from  an  awkward 
boy  to  a  handsome  man  ;  that  he  had  seen,  made  up  friends 
with,  and  invited  him  to  call ;  that  he  would  be  in  that  evening. 

"  Is  it  indeed  true,  papa?"  and  she  looked  incredulously. 

"Yes,  yes,  it  is  all  so;  and  if — well,  if  he  says  anything 
about  your  former  engagement — about — about — well,  you 
know  what  I  mean,  Blanche,  of  course  I  .will  not  keep  him  a 
great  while  in  suspense ;  because — because — I  know  you  love 
him  truly,  and  always  have,  and  I  would  like  to  see  you  happy. 
Am  sorry  for  what  happened  in  the  past ;  but  I  was  hasty,  and 
thought  it  would  be  the  best  for  you  to  marry  Rowland  Gray  ; 
for  you  know  he  was  then  very  wealthy.  But  I  see  that  riches 
are  liable  to  take  to  themselves  wings,  as  in  this  instance,  and 
a  man  becomes  poor  in  a  day ;  and  it  is  best  after  all  to  take  a 
companion  for  his  good  qualities,  and  brains,  than  for  gold  ; 
and  I  would  advise  a  person  to  marry  for  love,  and  nothing  else. 
So,  if  Sammie  says  anything  to  you,  don't  hang  back  on  my 
account." 

Happiness  is  but  a  poor  word  to  describe  the  feelings  of 
Blanche  at  this  moment.  Her  whole  soul  was  permeated  with 
a  new  life,  and  a  change  commenced  from  this  time,  in  both 
mind  and  body. 

"O  papa,  how  kind  you  are!"  she  said,  immediately  burst- 
ing into  a  flood  of  tears ;  then  throwing  her  arms  about  his 
neck,  kissed  him.  Her  father  knew  well  the  cause  of  this  dem- 
onstration, but,  pretending  ignorance,  asked  if  she 'was  sorry 
he  had  come. 

"No,  oh.no,"  she  answered,  wiping  her  eyes,  "for  I  love 
Sammie  with  my  whole  heart ;  but  it  overflows  with  joy,  sur- 
prise, and  thankfulness.  I  did  not  expect  it.  Papa,  you  are  so 
good! " 

"How  easily  the  child  is  deceived,"  thought  Walter  Clay- 
ton. "If  she  knew  my  secret,  she  would  lay  the  whole  thing 


$28  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

to  my  craftiness  to  obtain  a  rich  son-in-law.  So  far,  so  good, 
I  am  sharp  enough  to  keep  matters  to  myself." 

An  hour  had  scarcely  elapsed  before  Sammie  Wilmington 
stood  in  the  presence  of  Blanche. 

Reader,  their  meeting  is  too  sacred  for  intrusion.  God  and 
angels,  alone,  may  witness  the  rapture  of  each,  as  they  make 
explanations  and  pledge  to  each  other  once  more  vows  never  to 
be  broken  ;  and  Walter  Clayton  was  as  proud  as  any  conqueror, 
when  he  gave  his  daughter  to  the  noble  youth  who  had  hastened 
to  her  side  upon  the  very  first  revelation  of  her  faithfulness  to 
him,  and  her  sacrifice.  And  Sammy  was  too  happy  to  remem- 
ber old  grudges,  much  less  to  speak  of  the  past;  and  not  till 
they  were  married  did  he  tell  Blanche  anything  respecting  his 
fortune,  and  then,  folding  her  to  his  heart,  said,  "Dearest,  you 
loved  me  in  my  poverty,  and  you  surely  will  not  think  the  less 
of  me  now  that  I  am  able  to  surround  you  with  every  luxury  of 
life.  I  know  all  about  your  refusal  of  the  costly  diamonds,  and 
for  my  sake,  yes,  for  my  sake ;  but  you  shall  not  lose  your 
reward." 

Sammy  had  not  been  at  Lavarre  a  week  before  he  received  a 
telegram  apprising  him  of  the  illness  of  Lady  Parloe,  with  a 
desire  for  him  to  hasten  to  London  with  all  possible  dispatch. 
So  he  and  Blanche  were  not  long  in  getting  ready ;  for,  when 
the  next  train  was  due,  bound  for  New  York,  they  were  at  the 
depot  awaiting  it,  Walter  Clayton,  Elice  and  Robin  accompany- 
ing them  ;  and  not  till  the  last  "  farewell,"  "  God  bless  you,  my 
darling,"  had  been  listened  to  through  the  car  window,  did 
Blanche  realize  what  it  was  to  go  so  far  away  from  those  who 
loved  her  so  dearly — from  the  home  of  her  childhood,  where 
she  had  spent  pleasant  as  well  as  sad  hours;  her  dear,  darling 
mamma,  who  had  taught  her  to  lean  upon  that  high  Arm  that 
was  able  to  support  her  in  all  her  deep  trials ;  that  had  kept  her 
heart  from  sinking  into  utter  despair,  when  sorrows  like  a  great 
cloud  swept  over  her  young  life,  and  she  had  felt  no  other  wish 
than  to  die  and  leave  a  world  so  full  of  misery  and  woe.  But 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  329 

her  disturbed  feelings  were  soon  quieted  by  the  kind  words  of 
her  husband,  who  assumed  cheerfulness  for  her  sake,  and  would 
have  been  as  happy  now  as  mortal  can  be,  had  it  not  been  for 
the  sad  intelligence  that  had  that  morning  reached  him  respect- 
ing the  dear  one  far  away  whom  he  had  learned  to  love  with  all 
the  fondness  one  might  feel  for  a  mother. 

But  we  will  pass  over  all  incidents  that  occurred  upon  their 
journey,  and  will  simply  tell  you  how  very  pleasant  it  was  and 
interesting,  particularly  to  Blanche,  who  had  never  before  been 
on  this  wide  waste  of  waters,  the  Atlantic ;  and  how  glad  they 
were  that  their  dispatch  had  reached  their  friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Ashton  and  Charlie  Clayton,  all  of  whom  were  waiting  at  Liver- 
pool to  receive  them,  the  latter  being  entirely  reconciled  to  his 
new  brother,  as  was  evidenced  by  his  cordiality. 

Inviting  Sammie  to  a  seat  by  the  side  of  him  on  the  way  to 
the  metropolis,  he  enquired  of  him  if  he  was  acquainted  with 
Miss  Belle  Mayville. 

"A  warm  friend  of  mine — a  daughter,  you  know,  of  one  of 
our  firm.  Have  you  ever  met  her?  " 

"Was  introduced  to  her  a  year  ago  at  her  uncle's,  in  New 
York,  a  gentleman  with  whom  I  expect  to  enter  into  partner- 
ship, that  is,  if  I  choose.  I  prefer,  however,  to  work  awhile 
on  my  salary,  as  there  can  be  no  risks.  Five  thousand  per  year, 
you  know,  will  support  me  nicely." 

"  And  a  partner,  eh  ?     Tell  me,   Charlie." 

"Miss  Mayville  may  answer  all  your  questions." 

In  four  weeks  from  that  day,  there  was  a  grand  wedding  at 
St.  Peter's  Church — such  a  one  as  might  well  accord  with  the 
notions  of  the  wealthy  and  aristocratic  families  of  gay  old  Lon- 
don,— that  of  Belle  Mayville  and  Charlie  Clayton. 

A  few  months,  only,  had  elapsed,  when  grief  of  a  serious 
nature  came  once  more  to  Summerset  Castle.  Lady  Parloe 
breathed  her  last,  her  life  going  out  as  a  beautiful  sunset  day  so 
undisturbed  and  peaceful,  and  she  so  happy,  she  said,  that  her 
dear  old  home  had  fallen  into  such  good  hands. 


33O  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

A  letter  written  by  Blanche  a  time  after  her  installment  as 
mistress  of  Summerset  Castle  will  show  how  she  felt  about  her 
good  fortune  ;  and,  although  she  was  now  surrounded  by  wealth 
and  grandeur,  yet  she  was  the  same  dear,  dutiful,  loving  child 
as  before,  ministering  to' the  sick,  and  giving  of  her  means  to 
make  life  happy  for  many  a  poor,  downtrodden  son  and  daugh- 
ter of  Eve. 

"My  DARLING  MAMMA:  I  scarcely  can  tell  you  of  my  great 
happiness,  nor  describe  the  joy  I  feel  in  my  new  home ;  and  it 
is  not  that  I  am  raised  above  every  care  in  life  by  our  un- 
bounded wealth,  which  is  by  far  more  than  papa  can  boast ;  but 
that  with  all  this,  which  is  a  blessing  and  a  great  one,  I  know, 
inasmuch  as  we  can  make  others  happy  by  the  means ;  but  that 
my  husband  is  so  kind,  so  loving,  so  true,  and  does  everything 
for  my  pleasure ;  that  he  has  become  a  devoted  follower  of  the 
dear  Saviour  whom  you,  my  sweet,  sweet  mamma,  taught  me  to 
love,  not  only  speaking  by  precept,  but  more  by  your  exam- 
ple, your  untiring  patience  through  all  your  tribulations  in  life — 
through  your  great  persecutions. 

"I  will  tell  you  how  to  spend  a  portion  of  our  time,  for  we 
do  not  allow  a  moment  to  go  to  waste,  feeling  that  we  must 
give  an  account  of  this,  even  at  the  great  day.  In  the  morning 
Sammie  calls  all  the  servants  together  and  reads  a  portion  of  the 
Scripture  and  explains  it  to  them ;  all  then  kneel,  while  he  pe- 
titions the  throne  of  grace  and  mercy,  asking  God  to  shed  abroad 
his  precious  love  in  the  hearts  of  these  children.  The  conse- 
quence is  that  He  has  heard  his  prayers,  and  they  are  all  hope- 
fully converted.  You  ask  me  how  I  know ; — simply  by  the 
peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness  in  them  manifested — patience, 
love,  forbearance.  We  then  breakfast  and  walk,  row  or  ride, 
for  two  or  three  hours,  all  over  the  grounds,  through  the  park, 
on  the  carriage  road  that  winds  along  for  several  miles  by  the 
beautiful  Thames;  then  taking  a  different  direction,  through 
lofty  shades,  we  find'  ourselves  after  a  Awhile  once  more  at  the 
castle,  of  which  I  will  some  time  give  you  a  description,  but  not 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  33! 

now,  for  I  have  not  the  time ;  the  hours  that  intervene  are  filled 
by  practicing  music.  Afternoons  :— directly  after  dinner  a  pro- 
fessor gives  us  lessons — Sammie  on  different  'instruments.  It 
seems  as  if  there  were  no  need  of  this;  for  to  my  mind,  he 
surpasses  his  teacher  in  sweetness  of  tone,  in  everything 
already ;  and  I  tell  him  so,  but  he  says  I  am  prejudiced  in  his 
favor  and  am  not  capable  of  distinguishing  piano  from  fortissimo, 
and  laughing,  I  say  that  may  be  so  in  'your  case.  I  receive 
instructions  on  guitar  and  piano. 

1 '  Next,  there  are  a  great  many  of  his  tenants  who  have  been 
unable  to  maintain  their  families  for  awhile  on  account  of  sick- 
ness. These  we  visit  every  day  ;  and  while  we  bestow  our 
temporal  gifts,  think  not  we  forget  to  break  to  their  poor 
benighted  souls  the  'bread  of  life.'  Evenings  we  spend  mostly 
in  reading.  How  I  wish  you  could  take  a  peep  into  our  elegant 
library  ;  there  is  nothing  upon  which  you  would  wish  to  feast 
your  mind  but  you  would  find  here. 

"  I  shall  look  for  a  visit  from  you,  papa,  and  Robin  the  com- 
ing summer.     Promise  me,  darling  mamma. 
With  much  love, 

Your  BLANCHE." 

Another  written  a  year  after  the  marriage  of  Blanche  and 
Sammie  : 

"  MY  SWEET  MAMMA:  Congratulate  me.  lam  able  once 
more  to  go  out,  and  have  just  come  in  from  a  ride,  feeling 
refreshed  and  invigorated.  Thank  God  with  me  that  my  perils 
are  passed.  I  am  well  once  more  ;  and  nestling  away  in  its 
downy  nest  is  a  little  darling  with  the  brightest  eyes  of  blue, 
which  have  opened  enough  for  me  to  know  are  just  like  its 
papa's;  while  we  can  brush  its  flaxen  hair  into  the  dearest  little 
ringlets  all  over  its  head  ;  this,  too,  when  it  becomes  a  few 
years  old,  will  be  just  the  color  of  Sammie's.  Do  not  laugh  at 
my  enthusiasm,  when  I  say  still  further  that  it  is  very  beautiful, 
and  only  two  months  old  ;  but  you  know,  darling  mamma,  for 
you  once  had  a  little  heart  throbbing  against  yours  that  was  all 


332  THOSE  ORPHANS,    OR 

your  own,  that  to  a  mother,  a  child  has  peculiar  attractions  that 
no  one  else  can  see  ;  may  be  in  this  case. 

"Sammie  is  delighted,  of  course,  and  says  it  shall  be  called 
after  its  two  grandmammas,  Frederica  Elice.  Will  that  please 
you  ?  I  need  not  ask,  for  the  pleasure  and  good  of  your  chil- 
dren were  always  paramount  in  your  thoughts.  I  shall  teach 
my  little  Elice  unselfishness,  and,  if  her  character  should  one 
day  shine  conspicuously  in  that  respect  like  her  whose  name  she 
bears,  I  shall  be  so  proud  of  her.  Still,  I  will  breathe  into  your 
ears,  darling  mamma,  my  great  happiness.  I  told  you  in  other 
letters  of  the  mission  Sabbath  school,  of  which  Sammie  was. 
superintendent.  Charlie  and  Belle  have  now  enlisted  as  teach- 
ers, and  so  much  good  is  being  done,  it  fills  my  heart  with  joy. 
I  know  it  will  yours  to  hear  of  it. 

Still  I  am  praying  for  dear  papa,  and  firmly  believe  that  all 
of  those  prayers  of  faith  that  have  gone  forth  from  your  lips, 
since  I  can  remember,  for  him,  will  not  be  unanswered. 

"Good-bye  for  the  present.  BLANCHE." 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  333 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

A  few  extracts  from  the  diary  of  Elice,  and  letters  received 
.and  sent  a  time  previous  to  her  death,  will  show  more  plain- 
ly than  any  words  of  our  own,  that  Christ  has  power  to  sustain 
the  Christian  whose  trust  is  in  Him  alone,  even  after  their  feet, 
weary  of  treading  this  vale  below,  have  stepped  into  the  Jor- 
dan and  they  are  passed  all  recovery. 

"July  ist. — My  birthday.  I  shall  never  live  to  see  another; 
for  the  physicians  say  I  must  die — must  die ;  and  what  does 
this  imply?  A  separation  simply  of  soul  and  body — a  life,  a 
beautiful,  glorious  life  in  the  beyond.  Shall  I  then  repine  ? 
True,  I  must  leave  some  of  my  dear  ones  behind,  but  they  will 
come  to  me.  Oh,  I  have  faith  that  I  shall  see  them  all  at  last 
in  the  kingdom  of  Heaven." 

August  2nd. — A  letter  from  Charlie:  dear  boy,  how  I  love 
him !  and  to  know  he  is  indeed  converted — his  heart  changed, 
and  actually  laboring  in  a  mission  Sabbath  school,  striving  to 
win  hearts  to  God,  is  bliss  indescribable !  Oh !  we  shall  meet 
bye  and  bye  up  yonder,  if  not  on  earth,  sweet  child ;  but  I  do 
hope  to  see  him  and  Blanche  yet  before  I  pass  away.  I  have 
never  told  them  my  condition,  or  how  quickly  they  would  fly 
to  me ;  but  I  dislike  to  distress  them,  still  in  my  next  letter 
they  shall  know  all.  How  sweet  to  know  that,  through  all  the 
opposition  that  has  assailed  my  life,  the  misjudgments,  that  the 
minds  of  those  dear  children  have  not  been  embittered  against 
me.  But  this  was  another  one  of  the  blessings  bestowed,  for 


334  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

which  I  thank  my  Father  above.     But  I  must  stop  scribbling 
and  read  the  letter::" 

"Mamma,  dear,  do  you  feel  neglected  because  three  weeks 
have  passed,  and  you  have  not  heard  from  me?  You  will  not 
when  I  tell  you  that  Belle  has  been  ill  and  I  have  watched  by 
her  bedside  night  and  day,  fearing  that  each  moment  would  be 
her  last;  and  now  that  she  is  slowly  recovering,  I  thought  I 
could  take  the  time  to  write  you.  Although  I  am  happy — for 
my  sweet  wife  is  all  the  world  to  me — yet  I  miss  your  dear 
voice;  and  your  kind  counsellings.  You  have  had  a  rough 
life ;  but  I  trust  those  days  are  over,  and  you  will  be  happier 
than  you  ever  have  been.  I  have  now  entered  into  partnership 
with  the  firm  for  whom  I  have  done  business  so  long,  and  am 
making  money  very  fast ;  but  think  not  I  set  my  heart  upon 
wealth ;  there  are  higher  enjoyments  than*  the  accumulation  of 
gold,  and  I  have  found  them  in  the  service  of  the  Master 
above. 

You  cannot  tell  how  badly  I  wish  to  see  you,  and  think 
Belle  and  I  will  make  a  trip  to  America  soon.  You  will  not 
forget  us  in  your  prayers,  I  know. 

"  Your  affectionate  son, 

CHARLIE  CLAYTON." 

"Such  a  letter  is  consoling;  such  words  are  sweet  tome; 
my  life  after  all  has  been  a  triumph  ;  my  pathway  is  gilded  to 
the  tomb;  I  have  suffered  persecution,  but  heaven  and  immor- 
tality await  me  and  mine." 

"  August  25th. — It  is  the  storm  and  the  wind  as  well  as  the 
sunlight  that  has  unfolded  the  leaves  of  this  beautiful  rose. 
Had  there  been  no  clouds,  no  rain,  the  tree  must  have  died 
with  the  heat  of  these  summer  days ;  but  now  its  fragrance  is 
wafted  by  every  passing  breeze  that  blows.  So  with  Christ's 
followers ;  the  storms  of  persecution,  trouble,  sorrow,  of  every 
name  and  nature,  as  well  as  the  sun  and  dew  of  gentleness, 
kindness,  and  love,  unfold  their  Christian  character,  and  cause  it 
to  yield  the  blossoms  of  true  piety.  Let  my  life,  blessed 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  335 

Father,  be  such  that  no  stain  may  rest  upon  it ;  my  example 
accord  with  my  profession." 

"September  ist. — My  life  is  ebbing  fast  away.  I  shall  prob- 
ably never  see  another  anniversary  of  my  wedding  day.  How 
the  winds  whistled  and  howled  around  my  father's  cottage, 
uprooting  the  shade  trees,  and  demolishing  all  the  vines  that 
had  hitherto  clung  to  the  lattice — a  warning  prophecy  of  my 
future.  I  could  not  see  it  then,  for  Walter  was  there  and  had 
thrown  around  me  his  arms  of  affection.  Twas  enough.  How 
I  loved  him  !  And  happiness  smiled  upon  me  even  from  the 
wrecks  the  winter  storms  had  made.  My  tears  are  falling  fast, 
as  I  recall  the  hours ;  but  they  will  all  soon  be  dried  upon  my 
Saviour's  loving  bosom.  How  I  wish  Walter'was  a  child  of  the 
Most  High — was  treading  in  the  beautiful  paths  of  righteous- 
ness !  Still  I  have  faith  that  some  time  in  the  future  he  will  be 
a  praying  man." 

"September  5th. — At  the  sight  of  the  hectic  flush  upon  my 
cheek,  with  the  knowledge  that  the  sod  must  soon  cover  me,  he 
taunts  me*with  cruel  words.  How  unjust,  how  hard !  when  I 
have  always  done  so  much  for  his  comfort  and  happiness ;  but 
Walter  will  sometime  visit  my  grave  with  regrets,  and  be  made 
to  see,  through  his  own  affliction,  how  he  embittered  my  life. 
God  is  an  avenger  of  wrongs,  as  well  as  a  justifier  of  good  deeds. 

"September  6th. — I  read  among  the  arrivals,  those  of  Hon. 
A.  S.  Ashton  and  wife;  just  returned  from  a  tour  in  Europe. 
Joy,  joy,  my  dear  friends !  Yes,  more  than  that  has  she  been 
to  me — sister,  mother,  counsellor,  everything.  But  here  they 
come.  I  thought  they  would  hasten  to  visit  me ;  they  will  tell 
me  all  about  my  darlings  over  the  Atlantic.  It  will  be  so  good 
to  hear  from  their  honest  lips,  of  their  happiness  and  prosperity. 

Come  and  gone !  I  did  not  think  the  meeting  would  so  affect 
them  ;  but  it  was  the  sight  of  my  distress.  She  could  scarcely 
converse  for  tears  and  sobs.  Dear,  kind,  ministering  angel,  she 
will  come  again,  and  wiU  grow  calm  when  I  tell  her  of  the  peace 
I  feel  in  my  soul ;  when  I  speak  to  her  of  that  rest  that  is  to  be 


336  THOSE  ORPHANS,   OR 

mine ;  of  the  tree  of  life,  under  whose  broad  branches  I  shall 
soon  be  sheltered,  and  for  aye ;  away  from  the  storms  of  life — 
sorrow,  persecution,  envy,  malice,  scathings  of  evil,  lying,  de- 
ceitful tongues,  all,  all,  and  safe  in  my  Father's  fold ;  He  the 
Shepherd. 

"September  /th. — A  letter  from  Blanche  : 

SWEET  MAMMA  :  Tell  me  not  that  you  must  die  ;  for  I  fear  I 
shall  grow  sinful  and  rebel.  Every  moment  since  I  read  your 
letter  bearing  the  painful  news,  I  have  prayed  for  submission, 
and  still  it  comes  not.  You  who  watched  so  tenderly  over  my 
early  life ;  that  so  readily  forgave  all  my  wrong  doings ;  that 
came  to  my  side  with  pleasant  smiles,  and  cheerful  words,  when 
my  feet  had  already  slid  into  the  mires  of  despondency  ;  that 
dragged  me  from  a  seemingly  hopeless  grief,  and  bade  me  look 
away  beyond  the  clouds  for  comfort.  O  mamma,  my  agoniz- 
ing tears  blot  my  words  ;  I  can  write  no  more.  Sammie  says 
we  will  start  for  America  on  the  next  vessel  out  of  port.  I 
must  see  you  soon.  How  can  I  wait  ? 

"  Your  affectionate  daughter, 

BLANCHE." 

"  Poor,  dear  Blanche  !  she  does  indeed  love  me  truly.  God 
sustain  her!" 

"September  8th. — A  telegram  from  Charlie.  He  and  Belle 
are  also  coming  home.  How  good  God  is  !  I  shall  once  more 
be  permitted  to  see  all  my  children." 

"September  pth. — Walter  has  promised  I  shall  lie  with  my 
kindred  on  the  banks  of  the  Cohocton.  That  was  kind,  and  in 
part  makes  amend  for  his  ill  treatment.  How  glad  I  am  that  I 
can  so  freely  forgive  all  the  wrongs  he  has  done  me  !  Another 
life  how  different  from  this !  Heaven,  sweet  heaven,  my  eternal 
home  !  No  revengeful  feelings  will  there  stir  up  our  hearts  ;  no 
malicious,  envious  strife  come  to  dispel  the  serenity  of  our  joys. 
Peace,  peace,  everlasting  peace  !  I  am  so  contented  to  die. " 

"September  i8th. — Another  telegram.  The  children  will  be 
home  on  the  evening  train ;  they  will  see  my  life  go  out.  I 


THE  TRIALS  OF  A  STEPMOTHER.  337 

never  thought  the  pillow  of  death  could  be  so  downy ;  but  the 
.arms  of  Christ  are  around  me.  Sweet,  sweet  Saviour,  how 
blessed  am  I ! " 

These  were  the  last  words  ever  penned  by  Elice  Clayton. 
She  died  as  calmly  as  though  she  were  going  to  sleep ;  was  bur- 
ied at  Woodville  by  the  side  of  her  loved  ones.  A  monument 
of  surpassing  beauty  towers  above  her  head ;  on  it  the  simple 
inscription : 

' '  Our  Mamma.  A  pledge  of  affection  from  '  Those  Orphans, ' 
who  loved  her  so  dearly  in  life — in  death  did  not  forget  her" 


In  another  book  entitled,  "His  Other  Wife,"  which  we 
expect  soon  to  publish,  we  will  tell  you  more  of  Walter  Clay- 
ton ;  his  wicked  life,  and  sad  death. 


000  004  909 


